


cascade upside down

by fireflyfall



Series: the far too many self-insert aus, the infinite electric boogaloo [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Apologies, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Drug Use, Hemospectrum, IM ALLERGIC TO SEVERE LACK OF WORLDBUILDING DETAILS OKAY, POV Alternating, Pesterlog(s) (Homestuck), Quadrant Confusion, Racism, Self-Insert, Sopor Slime, Troll Romance (Homestuck), Unreliable Narrator, Worldbuilding, alternia sucks ass, and names. HOW DO WIGGLERS EVEN GET NAMED ANYWAYS., bc lets be real its fucking homestuck, because i am not a socially intelligent being xoxo, definitely not hiveswap friendsim compliant rip, i can will and have agonized over exactly how the fuck hive building works on alternia, i ramble way too much in the comments, not by choice mind u, of which i actually have no idea if gamzee did horribly or not, probably not epilogues compliant, quadrant romance is unavoidable, si!gamzee being a dense little shit, tags to be added as they become relevant, they keep on happenin, theyre trying to stick to the timeline, unfortunately, yeah i. have nothing to say
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-12-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:41:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 40,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23641774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireflyfall/pseuds/fireflyfall
Summary: Life as Gamzee Makara isn’t exactly the happiest one. It’s not miserable, but- not the happiest. It’s worse when you’re not accustomed to living on a planet full of violent children and lusii and far more death than there ever was in your typical suburban Earth town.Also, the sun burns you. That’s just fuckingsad.Gamzee really fucking misses the sun. The moons are cool and all, but seriously, they would kill for twenty minutes with a nice, warm spot of sunlight to doze off in. Did they mention that they really miss the sun? Seriously. Vampire burning-in-the-sun traits. Tragic.If only they were fated to actually make it to the new universe after everything was said and done, all the battles fought and won.(They never read the epilogues, so they have some hope - but not very much. Not very much at all.)
Series: the far too many self-insert aus, the infinite electric boogaloo [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703044
Comments: 226
Kudos: 219





	1. in which trolls are a thing, and gamzee is not exactly gamzee

**Author's Note:**

> happy 4/13- actually im a day late on that but fhjfhg w/e i told myself i was doing this so here we fuckin go
> 
> update: heres the troll emotive sounds translation list i promised :>  
> *this may (probably will) be edited as the fic progresses so fair warning lmao
> 
> ***NOTE: this is NOT especially necessary to read this fic!!!! its just a fun thing i wanted to do bc of the hc of trolls having aspects of speech at frequencies out of the human hearing range. again; you DO NOT NEED THIS to understand the dialogue in this fic.**
> 
> *an abundance of clicks, especially if fast, generally means negative, anger-oriented emotions
> 
> verbal question mark: _click-chirp_ (higher-pitched chirp) (can be varied; ex, more emphasis [like sharper clicks, shorter/higher chirps, or louder volume] for more firmness and/or aggressiveness)  
> annoyed question: _click-click-chirp_  
>  mocking question: _click-chir-RUP_ (emphasized at end)  
> confused question: slower, more cautious
> 
> annoyance: steady _click-click_
> 
> surprise/being startled/shocked: fast (medium-pitch) handful of clicks
> 
> assertiveness (not aggression-related): one firm _click_
> 
> aggression: typically a low, steady _click-click-click;_ lots of low, steady clicks in general  
> growls usually have underlying _click-click-click-click_ ’s for aggression
> 
> excitement: high chirps
> 
> dejection: low chirps
> 
> worry/low anxiety: low _chirrup_ (decrease in pitch; slightly higher _chir,_ lower _rup_ )
> 
> apologetic/placating: slow _chirp-chirp-click_
> 
> agitation/distress: sharp, high trill of/rapid chirps/clicks
> 
> panic/hysteria: erratic, high-pitched clicks/chirps

In most universes, the story goes like this:

Once upon a time, there was a boy who was ignored by his lusus. The lusus - even though he had picked this wiggler himself, just like every other lusus - had tired of the boy and started leaving him to roam the seas whenever he could. The little boy picked up many bad habits because of this, having no watchful lusus to teach him right from wrong; and so he slowly, unknowingly, rotted his own thinkpan with sopor and a loneliness that not even his friends could chase away.

Once upon a time, a lonely boy who was hooked on drugs and believed in a false religion of miracles joined eleven other friends to play a game. His lusus died, but so did all the others’, and so did every other entity on their planet but they twelve. They got their lusii back, but lost them again, just as they lost the reward they had rightfully won from the game.

Once upon a time, for the first time in forever, the boy ran out of sopor. The boy proceeded to have several huge revelations about his life, and several consequential existential crises to follow. It didn’t help that the boy from another planet had unknowingly made it worse, not knowing that this boy was going through some really hard times right now.

Once upon a time, a boy found a puppet.

Once upon a time, a boy lost his life. Oh, he was still alive; but he may as well have been dead, for all the good that living had done him.

Once upon a time, a boy was surrendered, against his will, into eternal servitude to a tyrant. The boy killed his friends and betrayed his friends, and his friends eventually left him. And he could do nothing but watch as it all happened before his very eyes.

Once upon a time, a boy died in a place far, far from home, as nothing but a footnote in the tale of how his master bested the insolent but admittedly resilient players who had come in hopes of defeating him.

And that was the end of him.

  
  


So, in summary: Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived lonely and secretly sad and never really understood by anyone. And he never got better.

He grew up lonely, even when he had friends, and he died completely alone, in a place where no one was his friend.

* * *

That is not this story, though.

This story is about how the little wiggler of that lusus in the beginning tries to make themself fit to that story, but fails fantastically and somehow ends up alright in the end.

(And this is what saves them, when all is said and done: they are not the same wiggler that was present in most stories, the lonely boy who was forced to betray his friends. They were someone else. They _knew_ something else, something more than the dreary life of Alternia. And that made all the difference.)

* * *

Gamzee - not that they are aware their name is Gamzee, not yet - is ~~fifteen~~ two… three… _a few_ days old, and they would like to have their old body back, please and thank you very much.

They have _six. Legs._

They have six legs and this is really weirding them out. Less than it did in the beginning, sure, but still. Though they’re not really in any state to properly, truly and wholly _freak the fuck out_ about the fact that they have six limbs instead of four, since their newly-developed brain simply isn’t allowing such complex thoughts that would allow for a minor mental breakdown. However, they _do_ know that they used to have two legs and two arms with two hands and two feet and now they don’t so it feels weird.

Not that six legs is a bad thing. It actually kind of feels right on an intrinsic level, but there’s also a vague, pervading sense of _wrong_ that probably comes from their formerly monkey-slash-primate brain.

They’ve decided to ignore the fact that their body is currently a hard, bug-like shell. It’s a pretty shade of dark purple, so they’ll let it slide. No, they’re more concerned with finding a place to spin their cocoon like all the other little bug babies are doing. Most of them are still wriggling around with their pretty variety of colored shells and six legs each, but they’ve seen a few already start to make their cocoons and it seems- no, it _feels_ right, so they’re going to do it, too.

So they wriggle on, keeping a sharp eye out for a nice stalactite to spin their cocoon on. There isn’t really much room at all for thinking and stalactite-searching at the same time, so they just don’t. Everything else can come later.

* * *

“ _Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh shit oh fuck fuck fUCK!_ ”

They hate the Trials they hate the Trials _they hate the Trials they_ **_really fucking hate_ ** _the Trials-_

* * *

A large, goat-like aquatic creature chooses them, fresh out of The Trials™, which are never to be spoken of _ever a-fucking-gain._

Never. Ever.

The only good thing that came out of this shit was the fact that they have two legs and two arms now, as they should be. And hands. _Hands._

(Their nails are yellow and their skin is naturally grey, but they are currently refusing to think about the implications of such anatomical details.)

The giant creature carefully picks them up with its teeth and drops them on its back. Its fur is somewhat damp, but soft, and the child buries their hands in it in a simple wonder.

(Always appreciate the little things. It’s what makes things in life count.)

The two of them emerge from the caves that the child never remembered entering, and face the bright night sky with its countless stars and two moons; pink and green.

Mostly, they just gape at the beautiful sight and take it in greedily, relishing at the view so enchanting to the simple part of them that finds everyday things like the sky and clouds and mountains and oceans and city views _breathtaking,_ when they actually look. A small part of them fears and doubts at the unfamiliarity of- of everything, but they don’t focus on that now.

For now, they just cling to the back of the creature in pure white who had chosen them, and admire all the new things they see as it takes the child away to somewhere they don’t yet know.

* * *

Goatdad, as the child has affectionately named him, nudges them towards the fruit he’d dropped before them, presumably trying to make them eat it. But the child, in fact, does not recognize the fruit, so they have _no_ idea how to eat it - does the skin need to be peeled before consumption? Is it even edible at all???

“Th- than-ks, Goat-dad,” they say slowly, stumbling over the words that for some reason are so much harder for their voice to make. It’s annoying, really, but it can’t be helped.

Welp. They guess they’ll just have to trust Goatdad on this. He hasn’t fed them anything poisonous yet, so he probably knows what he’s doing, they guess. Time for the bite of faith.

* * *

Their name is Gamzee.

They picked their spot, and the carpenter drones started to build their hive, and halfway through they found out through a _fucking name placard,_ when the carpenter drone that noticed them carefully examining it was all too kind enough to read it aloud for them, that _their name is fucking Gamzee._

Their name. Is _Gamzee fucking Makara._

GAMZEE. MOTHERFUCKING. MAKARA.

They had to scream into their arm for a few minutes before regaining the ability to think anything other than _holy shit, this can’t be possible, I’m so fucking screwed._

  
  


The hive got built, somewhere between the child freaking the fuck out and their lusus - their _lusus!_ \- attempting to comfort them. Never let it be said that the carpenter drones let the factor of a distressed child get in the way of completing their job.

* * *

THERE IS A COMPUTER.

Oh dear sweet heavenly gods there is a _computer_ in this hive. THERE IS A COMPUTER. AN ITEM WHICH ALLOWS INTERNET ACCESS.

Okay, fine. _Husktop._ Same difference, so whatever.

It’s been… a month? Around there. It’s weird counting the nights instead of the days, but that’s just how it is with a nocturnal race, they guess. They… _Gamzee_ has been pretty busy with kiddie books for learning the Alternian language, so they’ve not got much chance to look around.

They found the husktop while wandering around their new and large (at least to their tiny self) hive, bored out of their mind with the language-learning books. The builder drones just built a default hive, about the size of a human house. They guess the whole ‘you can make your hive however you want!’ thing comes later, when the kiddie trolls can actually speak the damn language so they can direct the drones.

When they get the chance to change up their hive, Gamzee’s making the windows orange. They’re not really a fan of the yellow theme they’ve got going here.

Wait, they were talking about something else. Fuck. Uh. Husktop, right, husktop.

They found a husktop. _They have internet access._ **_They will be unstoppable._ **

* * *

Fuck. Reader, meet Jared, nineteen.

_They can’t fucking read._

UUUGGGGHHHHH.

* * *

_Three perigees later..._

  
  


Okay. Okay, they can read now. Many thanks to their flexible little wiggler mind. They have basic vocab and shit down. They know enough to hold a casual, if somewhat simple, conversation.

Of course, the first thing they do is make a Trollian account.

* * *

The second thing they do with their husktop is spend nearly forty-five minutes searching for words that start with ‘c’. And using a dictionary. Meaning is very important, here.

Gamzee is stuck on the sign-up page for a grand total of an hour and two minutes.

* * *

**\-- terminallyCascading [TC] started trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 12:18 --**

TC: hOnK

TC: HoNk

TC: :o)

CG: OH DEAR SWEET JEGUS. WHY A PURPLE-BLOOD.

TC: :o>

CG: I MAY AS WELL JUST LEAVE RIGHT NOW, SORRY TO HAVE BOTHERED YOU WITH MY HORRIBLE PRESENCE!

TC: no no NO WAIT WAIT WAIT hgjfkgjldm.s,kfdj

TC: dOn’T lEaVe YeT! wE hAvEn’T eVeN gOtTeN tO tAlK yEt :o(

TC: i’M nOt GoInG tO jUdGe YoU oR aNyThInG!! pRoMiSe

CG: ...WOW, UH.

CG: OKAY?

TC: :oD

CG: NICE TO MEET YOU THEN, I GUESS.

TC: yOu As WeLl, YoU wOnDeRfUl MoThErFuCkEr

TC: hOnK :o)

* * *

(Carcinogenic. Having the potential to cause cancer.

Haha. _Oh,_ the irony. Paradox space truly does have a strange sense of humor. Did Karkat even realize, when he made his handle?

Well. They won’t dwell on it much. For now, they’ll just appreciate that Trollian’s ‘meet a random user’ function somehow, _miraculously_ led them immediately to Karkat, instead of someone who will die here with all the rest of the world when the game eventually starts.)

* * *

**\-- fireflyFatalism started trolling terminallyCascading at 01:01 --**

FF: test test

**\-- fireflyFatalism ceased trolling terminallyCascading at 01:01 --**

**\-- terminallyCascading started trolling fireflyFatalism at 01:01 --**

TC: hEaR yA lOuD aNd ClEaR

**\-- terminallyCascading ceased trolling fireflyFatalism at 01:01 --**

**\-- fireflyFatalism started trolling terminallyCascading at 01:02 --**

FF: heheheh >:) second account achieved

FF: :o) honk

**\-- fireflyFatalism ceased trolling terminallyCascading at 01:02 --**

(Just in case. If things get too tiring, if… if being _Gamzee_ becomes too much, or not enough.

They’re not sure what to expect. They’re not really trying to _change_ anything - they’re not so cruel as to resign this whole timeline to Doom for their own, personal satisfaction - just… if. If they need it.

No one needs to know.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HOLY FUCK ITS DONE PHEEEWWwwwww :))))
> 
> the title is kind of just a whim/placeholder i may or may not change it later- ok no who am i kidding. most likely i wont change it unless i really dislike it later


	2. in which alternia fucking sucks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i edit chapters SO MUCH, you have no idea. so many edits. i am never satisfied- okay thats a lie but it takes many waves of edits to satisfy myself
> 
> depending on if u read a chapter before or after my edits there may be changes, but theyre mostly small things i nitpick at so dont worry abt missing anything, ill tell u if i make a significant edit :)
> 
> and yeah, sorry dirk, davesprite. im ripping off ur orange lmao i couldnt figure out how to format a different shade for mine. id use a pink instead but gamzee aint that dumb. theyre not gonna risk themself like that when pink is so close to the color of royal blood. (if any of you happen to know how to format colors that arent canon colors in pesterlogs, pls hmu!!!)

Gamzee blinks at the… sylladex-cardy-looking thing. Stack of things. Whatever.

Goatdad huffs impatiently at them.

“Uh. Is this. A… sylladex?”

Goatdad gives them a flat look.

They stare right back at him.

“Goatdad. You got me a _sylladex?_ ”

The look gets even flatter. Like a ‘what the fuck else do you think it is, cotton candy?’ kind of flat look. It’s The Flat Look™. The look flatter than cardboard. Flatter than the _taste_ of cardboard. Flatter than the Earth was thought to be by literally everyone ever until Columbus or whomever the fuck finally proved them wrong and it turned out that the crazy ones were actually fucking correct all along!

Anyways. Sylladex.

Gamzee looks down at the apparently-a-sylladex again. The other cards are pink, but the top card flashes in lots of colorful colors. That’s a little annoying, but alright. They can deal with that.

They pick up the flashy-flashy deck of cards. “Alright. So how do I equiiIEAAUGH.”

WHERE THE FUCK DID THE CARD GO. Oh fuck that’s wack as fuck _wow fuck._

The top card is gone. This feels right, somehow.

“Okay then,” Gamzee mutters. “Wack but okay. Uh.” They’ve obviously equipped the sylladex, so- “Can I view…?”

They can, indeed, view their sylladex. It pops up like an anime virtual reality interface in front of them.

“Woah.”

Goatdad looks smug. “Alright, fine,” they acquiesce. “This is great, Goatdad. Thanks.”

He snorts at them, and pushes his snout into their stomach, knocking them over.

“ _Hey!_ ” Gamzee grumbles, and gets back up. Thankfully, they hadn’t lost their grip on the deck of sylladex cards. “Okay, fair enough. Now…” Hmmm. They only have four sylladex cards equipped, but there are several more in their hand. So how do they equip them? There has to be a way… they _remember_ this being mentioned somewhere before...

The little cardboard box the sylladex had come in glances off the side of their head. “Ow,” they say reflexively. They look up at Goatdad, unimpressed. He gives an equally unimpressed look back, and gestures at the spilled contents of the offending box.

There’s a manual.

Gamzee facepalms. “I’m a dumbass.”

The look Goatdad gives them almost seems to say _yes. Yes, you are._ The small troll snorts at this.

“Anyway, time to put these in and test this thing out!”

* * *

_Holy fuck. Expanding their sylladex is so much fucking harder than they thought it’d be._

Fuck this shit, fuck the Miracle Modus. HOW DO THE SYLLADEX CARDS KEEP FLYING THE FUCK OUT AREN’T THEY SUPPOSED TO BE ADDING ON TO THE SYLLADEX WHEN THEY EJECT.

_FUCK_ THIS SHIT, THEY QUI-

-it… Oh. Uh.

Gamzee stands there, ~~barbercue sauce on their titties~~ absolutely bamboozled, in the center of a huge mess that looks like - well, the tornado simile came to mind first but fuck that shit, if a tornado hit their kitchen- er, _meal block,_ then it wouldn’t even be fucking _here,_ much less with the walls mostly intact. Their meal block looks like someone picked it up and shook it around violently like a little shakeable box with a bunch of colored beads inside. Soda cans, books, utensils, and a bunch of other miscellaneous objects had found their way all across every surface of the kitchen.

Somehow, the sylladex cards had all just. Popped themself into the sylladex, all at once. Just now. Like, literally five seconds ago. Just, _bam._ No more sylladex cards in sylladex cards, just empty sylladex cards.

“ _What the fuck,_ ” they breathe, tension dropping from their shoulders like a sack of rocks. “I- _this._ The _Motherfucking Miracle Modus._ ”

It’s… for lack of any better words. It sucks _ass._ What the FUCK. How are they even supposed to operate this thing?!

They’re not about to say that to Goatdad’s face, though. That’d just be mean. And, well- bullshit system or not, it’s a _sylladex._ It’s certainly better than jackshit nothing, even if it’ll probably be harder to get their stuff out later.

Gamzee flops belly-down against Goatdad’s snout in a kinda-hug. They’re still small, so they can’t quite reach the top of his snout yet. “Thanks,” they mumble, suddenly feeling quite tired after all that chaos. “‘S nice of you. ‘Preciate it.”

Goatdad lets out a low, satisfied bleat, rumbling through Gamzee’s bony little chest. They don’t remember falling asleep, later waking up outside on the beach, nestled in their lusus’ fur.

* * *

“GoATDAD _don’t leave me here I don’t want to socialiiiiiiize,_ ” Gamzee whines, clinging to their lusus’ hoof.

Goatdad, quite predictably, snorts at them and shakes them off his hoof. Gamzee falls butt-first onto the grass with an _oopmh,_ groaning dramatically with their limbs splayed across the tiny blades of vegetation.

“Pleeeease?” they call up to him, pouting.

He pins them with a Look™ that pretty clearly says ‘behave’, and walks off to who the fuck knows where.

Ugh. He’s not coming back until the early morning, so Gamzee’s stuck here for a good chunk of the night.

“Fine,” they mutter. They pull their legs up to their chest and spring up with a little grunt.

They look around the park their lusus has ditched them in, and find a group of three kids staring at them. Eyeing them suspiciously, more like. Or something along those lines.

Gamzee stares back.

“Gonna be completely honest, I’m not exactly stoked to be here,” they say, to the comprehension of exactly no one because they’d purposely spoken in English. Y’know, like a little shit.

The kids look at each other. The slightly taller one (though still not that tall, since they’re Gamzee’s age) - a girl - looks between the other two, and shrugs. The shortest kid shrugs back. The middle-height one turns to Gamzee.

“Hey. Want to play with us?” he says, with a bit of a _click-chirp_ that makes then blink in surprise. Trolls can _do that?_ “We need one more person for two teams.”

* * *

The other kids were… okay to play with. Honestly, Gamzee was just kinda bored. It was a little fun at first - new culture, new games and all that - but they were still two sweep-olds, so after going through the games once Gamzee tired quickly of the games the other kids their age found fun. The group had merged with another one at some point, so Gamzee had snuck off to go and see what the older kids were up to.

They _were_ bored. They’re not bored now. Their mind is too occupied to _be_ bored, slowly coming to a realization they really, _really_ don’t want to have.

The older they got, Gamzee noticed, the more _scarred_ they got. A group of the oldest kids, looking to be in their late teens or early twenties - probably close to conscription age - are the ones with the most scars. _Gruesome_ scars, sometimes, and more often than Gamzee is comfortable with.

Over _half_ of the kids that look to be ages around-third-or-fouth-grade and up (ten, then) have visible scars. A select few of the ( _thankfully_ ) older ones even have robotic parts - fingers, an eye, a leg.

Compared to everything else… _that_ is what finally, _finally_ makes all this shit real for them. Being in _Alternia,_ they mean. It wasn’t the fact that they _are a fucking troll,_ nor the jokerkind strife specibus Goatdad insisted they learn to use; not the blatant propaganda in the kids’ books in their hive or the darker themes to all the childhood songs and rhymes. Not the slightly dangerous or racist games they found today that the highblood kids like to play. Not even the fucking fact that when Gamzee left the first group of kids, these _literal toddlers_ were showing off their cool, _potentially super dangerous_ strife specibi to each other like human kids would brag about their shiny new toys to all their classmates at school.

It’s the fucking scars that get them. The scars that _over half_ of these _children_ possess, everyone walking around like it’s normal, people even being _proud of how they got their scars_ and showing them off, or being legitimately _impressed_ by others with huge scars.

Gamzee doesn’t really mind that no one is ashamed of their scars, though it is a bit of a jarring change from the opinions of human norm. It isn’t that. They kind of like that people seem to be completely okay with their bodies, no matter the blemishes inflicted on them. They just… can’t believe how everyone acts like the violence that _causes_ these scars are _fucking normal._ Commonplace, even. _To be expected._

A tidbit they read once - somewhere, from a time years ago when they weren’t a troll - floats to the surface of their thoughts, and they kind of hate their brain for it.

_The trolls are a war-like race._

War-like.

_War-like._

On a planet full of fucking _kids._

The Condesce is preparing all these kids for _war,_ Gamzee realizes, a sickening thought that nibbles and gnaws away at their mind. They hadn’t realized it before, never connected the dots, but- _war._

They’d cracked open a basic Alternian history book once, just out of curiosity. This very quickly became clear to them: the trolls are a conquering race. They take over countless other races, countless other _planets._ They don’t get dragged into wars - they _make_ their history about war. They pick and choose virtually _all_ of their wars, and boy, is there a _whole fucking lot_ of them.

The trolls always win. Gamzee looks around at the scar-riddled young adults, the already somewhat jaded preteens, and realizes _why._

“Gods, I’m going to be fucking sick,” they murmur in English, hands fisting in the hair at their scalp. They tug on it slightly, a welcome distraction from the sinking, nauseous feeling welling up in their head and their sternum.

War.  _ War. _ The Condesce raises these kids for  _ war, _ prepares them years in advance (they remember the Trials -  _ the Trials, _ deadly and fucking terrifying), then immediately conscripts them to her army when they come of age. Nine sweeps. Eighteen years and eighteen months. Nineteen years and six months.

Not even twenty, and she sends them all into the fucking army so they can do her power-hungry bidding. _Fuck._

Gamzee is suddenly grateful that this planet fucking _dies_ with the start of the game. At least, then, the Condesce can’t do any of _this shit_ anymore.

Their lusus finds them like that an hour or so later, sitting in a tree and staring at the other kids playing or hanging out in the park, wondering how many of them are still going to be alive in the next few sweeps.

* * *

\-- fireflyFatalism [FF] started trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 11:14 --

FF: did you know that your sign was the sign of the Signless? he was your ancestor, you know.

FF: i think he was right, to rebel.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] is idle! --

FF: the blood caste is fucking stupid and a function to stir discord amongst the kiddie trolls so we all learn to be violent and fight each other and be raised into great soldiers for the Condesce’s army.

FF: then again, even if the blood caste weren’t an issue, there’d be something else, by the nature of intelligent beings. if you have society, you have discrimination. who fucking knows what it’d be? horn size? lusus type? the strength of your psychic powers, maybe?

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] is idle! --

FF: fucking ridiculous.

FF: i…

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] is idle! --

FF: no, nevermind.

FF: sorry to have bothered you. i kind of just meant to give you that fun fact up there but i got carried away.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] is idle! --

FF: seeya.

\-- fireflyFatalism [FF] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 11:19 --

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] started trolling fireflyFatalism [FF] at 11:26 --

CG: WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU. HOW DID YOU GET THIS HANDLE?

CG: AND WHAT DO YOU MEAN, ANCESTOR?! THAT’S JUST A STUPID HIGHBLOOD SUPERSTITION! AND *REBEL?!?!*

FF: oh, youre online.

FF: its… its not. a superstition.

FF: youll find out later, if you dont believe me. but. yeah.

FF: yeah the signless was the leader of a huge revolt for blood equality. he had your blood color.

CG: I DON’T KNOW WHAT THE FUCK YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT. YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW MY BLOOD COLOR, YOU NOOKSTAIN!

FF: i know lots of things i shouldnt.

FF: dont worry, i’m not telling anyone.

FF: i like you. youre not a super huge prick or anything so im not going to condemn you like that.

CG: I DON’T KNOW YOU. AND WHY SHOULD I LISTEN TO ANYTHING YOU SAY, ANYWAYS?

FF: yeah well. okay fair.

FF: look im sorry i mentioned it in the first place just thought you might be interested in knowing

FF: i can tell you more about the signless later, if youd like.

FF: just… hit me up if ur interested. bye

\-- fireflyFatalism [FF] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 11:39 --

CG: ...YOU’RE WEIRD.

CG: WAIT, YOU STILL DIDN’T TELL ME WHO YOU ARE!

CG: BLUH, THEY’RE NOT ANSWERING. THIS IS STUPID.

CG: FORGET THIS.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling fireflyFatalism [FF] at 11:40 --

* * *

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] started trolling terminallyCascading [TC] at 12:51 --

CG: TC YOU WON’T *BELIEVE* WHAT THIS BULGEFUCK TOLD ME TODAY.

TC: uHhHh

TC: wHaT iS iT?

CG: THEY SAID MY ANCESTOR WAS SOME HUGE TRAITOR TO THE EMPIRE OR SOMETHING!

CG: SOME DOUCHEBAG CALLED THE ‘SIGNLESS’. 

TC: oH wOw

CG: I KNOW!!!! IT’S SUCH HOOFBEAST SHIT!!

TC: i DoN’t KnOw, Cg, YoU nEvEr KnOw

TC: yOuR sIgN iS wEiRdLy FaMiLiAr :o)

CG: UGH!!!! NOT YOU TOO!!!!

CG: AND HOW WOULD HE EVEN HAVE A SIGN IF HE WAS THE *SIGNLESS*, ANYWAYS?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fatalism: the belief that all events are predetermined and therefore inevitable.
> 
> i was originally just going to use a soft, fancy f word like "fluorescent" or something (bc fireflies are my thing) but i happened across this word. it fit the gamzee of this fic so well i just had to use it. plus it sounds cooler >:)
> 
> did you know that there is a subspecies of fireflies that cannibalize other fireflies? they're the photuris kind. as far as i know, its the females that do the cannibalizing - fireflies mate by doing a certain blinky pattern to signal "HEY, I NEED TO MATE LIKE RIGHT NOW BEFORE I DIE IN THE NEXT COUPLA WEEKS" and thats how they find each other! (theyve got pretty short lifespans once they mature, i think.) the female photuris fireflies find their male prey by looking for these blinky patterns, then mimic the pattern of the female of the corresponding firefly species. then they meet with the unsuspecting male that thinks hes gonna get some sexy time and then EATS HIM.
> 
> apparently the male photuris do something like mimic the patterns of the other male fireflies that the females like to eat in order to find them. not sure how they convince the female not to eat them once they meet up, though. :P
> 
> okay that was an only tangenially related tangent but i felt that fireflies being cool and possibly badass needed explanation.


	3. in which gamzee is a dumbass. what's new?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so like uh
> 
> fuck!!! shit!!!!!!! i accidentally overlooked an important piece of bg abt alternia... which is that mentions of the sufferer, his symbols and the revolt he caused are forbidden, even in private journals and the like ;v; (alternia-mindfang was wary of even vaguely mentioning it too much for fear of another execution sO LIKE.)
> 
> i had to edit the conversation at the end of chapter 2 to fit that... but for the most part, i think ill keep that little mistake. might come in handy later :>
> 
> thanks for yalls support!!! ur comments make me rly happy when i read them kdjksfkj

Troll toddlers are weirdly intelligent. Karkat, for example, has a greater portion of his vocabulary dedicated to his swear words than a four year-old really should be capable of; and the kids at the park that one time were all already handling weapons without accidentally hurting themselves every five minutes, even if they weren’t that _good_ with them.

They chalk it up to a species thing. They all _did_ have to spend a bunch of time in cocoons to evolve from tiny bug-like wigglers to more humanoid-shaped toddlers, after all. Who knows what that kind of completely different development does for a kid’s brain.

(Unfortunately, this also means that the kids are old enough to comprehend blood castes, but that’s another topic for another time.)

Karkat Exhibit B for unnatural wiggler intelligence: He doesn’t exactly trust Firefly - their name on their other Trollian handle. Firefly doesn’t talk nearly as often with Karkat as Gamzee does, either. Honestly, they’re pretty sure the only reason he still talks to their orangey counterpart is because they sometimes tell him juicy bits of history that the Empire would _never_ even acknowledge the existence of in schoolfeeding.

And that they hide their blood color, just like he does.

Bright orange is _not_ on the hemospectrum - only orangeish-browns. Their handle color, from Karkat’s point of view, means that either they’re hiding their real blood color - the most likely scenario - or that they’re a mutant like Karkat - a far less likely scenario, since they’d probably have been culled a while ago if that was the case, but the sentiment is there.

The sentiment being that Firefly is _like him._ Hiding, because of their place in the hemospectrum.

That’s what Gamzee thinks, anyways. They kind of feel guilty when they remember this - that they’re kind of taking advantage of his not-quite-there-yet but slowly blossoming insecurity over his blood color - but they like talking to him. As both Gamzee _and_ Firefly. It’s… nice.

* * *

Subjugglator religion is… _interesting,_ to say the least.

Gamzee might not be _actually_ interested in it themself, but… well.

If they’re going to play the part, they’re going to have to learn about it just as if their enthusiasm were real.

They order a few cans of white face paint. Might as well start early; they’ll have to get used to it eventually.

* * *

TC: wHaT iF mY bLoOd CoLoR wAs WhItE, tHoUgH?

TC: tHaT wOuLd Be RaD

CG: THAT WOULD MAKE EVERYONE HATE YOU, IS WHAT IT WOULD BE.

CG: PLATONICALLY.

TC: mY iNvErTeBrOtHeR

TC: sInCe WhEn DiD i GiVe A sHiT ^o^

CG: TRUE.

CG: WHAT IS THAT?

TC: ^o^ tHiS?

CG: YES! OBVIOUSLY!

TC: iT’s A hApPy ClOwN fAcE. oBvIoUsLy :o)

CG: IT DOESN’T HAVE A FUCKING SQUAWK GAPER.

TC: :o( yOu’Re HuRtInG tHe HaPpY cLoWn’S fEeLiNgS

TC: uou

TC: jUsT lOoK aT tHaT sAd LiTtLe MoThErFuCkEr

CG: YOU CAN’T HURT ITS FEELINGS!! IT’S JUST A DAMN CLOWNY FACE, IT DOESN’T HAVE EMOTIONS!!!!

TC: oR dOeS iT?

TC: hOnK :o)

CG: THIS IS STUPID. YOU KNOW THE CLOWN FACE IS JUST THREE TINY TYPE CHARACTERS, SO I’M NOT EVEN GOING TO BOTHER FIGHTING WITH YOU.

CG: BACK TO THE POINT.

CG: WHITE BLOOD WOULD MAKE YOU THE WEIRDEST MUTANT TROLL IN THE HISTORY OF TROLLS. A LUSUS WOULDN’T EVEN PICK YOU, AND YOU WOULD BE CULLED ON SIGHT. THE END.

TC: aH, bUt WhAt If A tRoLl RaIsEd Me?

CG: ....A *TROLL*???????

TC: iT aIn’T iMpOsSiBlE, cG

TC: iT’s HaPpEnEd BeFoRe

CG: YEAH, YEAH, I KNOW. THE SIGNLESS, MUTANT BLOOD, RAISED BY A JADEBLOOD, YADA YADA YADA.

CG: I’M THE ONE WHO *TOLD* YOU ABOUT IT, SO SKIP THE SCHOOLFEEDING LESSON! I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF THEY WERE TELLING THE TRUTH ANYWAYS, SO IT COULD BE A HUGE HEAP OF BARKBEAST SHIT.

CG: THE POINT IS, YOU *COULD* SURVIVE, BUT THAT WOULD BE A REALLY, *REALLY* BIG “IF”.

TC: i StIlL tHiNk WhItE bLoOd WoUlD bE cOoL

CG: PERSONALLY, I COULD GIVE LESS OF A SHIT ABOUT “COOL” IF IT GETS ME DEADER THAN A RUSTBLOOD DROWNING IN MIDDLE OF SEADWELLER WATERS!!!!

CG: BECAUSE THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT BEING A MUTANTBLOOD WITH BLOOD SO FAR OFF THE FUCKING SPECTRUM IT DOESN’T MATCH UP WITH ANY COLOR EVEN A LITTLE BIT WOULD DO!!!!!

TC: ...

TC: oKaY. tHaT’s FaIr.

CG: OF COURSE, BECAUSE I’M RIGHT. GOG, TC.

CG: YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THOSE KINDS OF THINGS.

CG: WELL, *YOU* CAN, BECAUSE YOU’RE A PURPLEBLOOD, BUT IT’S FUCKING DANGEROUS FOR LOWER CASTES TO TALK ABOUT SHIT LIKE THAT.

CG: NOT THAT I’M SAYING I’M A LOWBLOOD!!! I’M JUST SAYING. IT’S DANGEROUS.

TC: aLrIgHt, sOrRy AbOuT tHaT :o(

TC: ...hEy, Cg?

CG: WHAT?

TC: wE’rE bRoS, rIgHt? Ya CaN aLwAyS tElL mE sHiT iF yOu WaNt. LiPs SeWeD sHuT, i WoN’t TeLl A sOuL.

CG: .......OKAY.

CG: I’M GOING TO ‘COON. I SHOULD HAVE BEEN ASLEEP HOURS AGO, MY LUSUS ISN’T GOING TO BE HAPPY TOMORROW EVENING.

TC: gUeSs I sHoUlD, tOo

TC: sEeYa, Cg

CG: GOODDAY, TC.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling terminallyCascading [TC] at 13:45 --

* * *

Ah, shit. Shitfuck crap. They fucked up.

Gamzee bonks their head onto their desk. “Can’t believe I _literally forgot_ he’s probably sensitive about it,” they grumble. “If his lusus is smart, which it _probably fucking is_ since it- Crabdad, right, _he_ got Karkat through his wigglerhood without either of them _fucking dying,_ then he’ll have Karkat hide his blood.” From an early age, too, so he doesn’t expose it when he’s young and dumb. Wait, don’t lusii have the same blood color as their wigglers? _Fuck,_ Gamzee honestly commends him for keeping Karkat alive till he’s _thirteen._ “Fuck. Stupid me, stupid, stupid, _stupid._ ”

They’re going to have to apologize to Karkat later, somehow. They hope he isn’t _too_ upset with them.

* * *

Karkat doesn’t speak to them for a da- _night._ A night and a half. They suspect it has to do with their previous conversation.

They spend the night he doesn’t respond to them in low spirits - the only thing that stops them from getting entirely depressed is the fact that he hasn’t blocked them yet.

They sleep early. Sleeping means they don’t have to deal with their problems.

Sometime past midnight the next night, Karkat contacts them again, giving a little apology for keeping out of touch and talking about this annoying yellowblood kid he met over Trollian late yesterday morning. Despite that, Karkat has the kid on his chumroll. They don’t talk about their last conversation. Gamzee isn’t sure if this means they’re forgiven, he’s avoiding the subject, or the night-and-a-half grace period wasn’t related to it at all.

Karkat calls the kid TA. Gamzee is pretty sure they know who he’s talking about.

(They link Karkat a romcom they’d found when bored one night a few weeks ago. It’s pretty good, and they recommend it to him. He comes back to them a few hours later babbling their ear off about the movie. Gamzee doesn’t mind; they’d always liked it when their friends rambled about things. It’s endearing.)

* * *

\-- fireflyFatalism [FF] started trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 23:18 --

FF: so.

FF: you’re CG’s new friend?

TA: who the fuck are you

FF: just a pal of his :>

TA: diid he tell you my handle??

FF: nope!

FF: i just so happened to already know yours

TA: creepy.

FF: eh. i call it ‘informed’, though only up to a certain point.

FF: for example: i couldnt tell u the names of any of your neighbors in ur hivestem if i wanted to. just yours.

TA: who 2ay2 ii liive iin a hiive2tem

FF: :P

FF: okay look,,, fuck i promise im not a stalker or some shit okay!!! im just well-informed!!!!! not really like i intended to know who you are!!!!!!!

TA: 2ure

TA: ii totally beliieve you.

FF: ....

FF: im not gonna convince you am i

TA: nope

FF: ffffffffuuuuuuuck i was gonna do a whole thing where i lowkey intimidated you and went something along the lines of “you hurt my friend and i kick your ass” but now its ruined lmao you win this time TA

FF: completely turned the tables on me

TA: wow

TA: that2 2o lame

FF: bro. i am the epitome of lame. i OWN lame.

FF: i am the king of lame. it is me.

TA: looks liike CG ha2 really bad ta2te iin friiends

FF: >:0 exCUSE you

FF: i am a WONDERFUL CHOICE IN FRIENDS

TA: ii’ll beliieve iit when ii 2ee iit

FF: >:00000000000000

* * *

After _that_ conversation, Gamzee keeps a list of all the handles they can remember. And names. So far, it’s up to about 10 handles - including the human kids’, not including their own. Eight, if they count out Karkat and Sollux. They’re pretty sure _something_ in their recall of Dirk’s handle is wrong, but they can’t quite figure out what. Same with the cherubs’ usernames. They can’t remember any of the Beforus players’ handles at all, only that they have the same initials as their dancestors’.

At least they can remember most everyone’s actual names. The only ones they can’t remember are the Taurus’ and fuchiabloods’ surnames.

On the other hand, they _wish_ they could forget Equius’ handle. But _fucking noooo._ HE HAD TO MAKE HIS HANDLE SOMETHING AS UNFORGETTABLE AS _A CENTAUR’S TESTICLE._

They die a little inside every time they remember it.

* * *

(They would be lying if they said they weren’t the least bit scared that Goatdad would eventually leave them.

They’re hopeful, but they’re not _stupid._ They realize that Goatdad didn’t really have any explained reason for neglecting Gamzee’s care in canon; they _don’t know_ why he stopped caring about the child he _literally chose_ himself, just like every other lusus on the planet, so there’s a risk of it occurring.

Usually, Goatdad’s care in raising them - not overbearing, but not absent, either - easily waves away the uncertainty, but sometimes… they wonder.

Will he get tired of them, eventually? When will he finally stop caring?)

* * *

While not an unfamiliar concept to them, dysphoria is something that Gamzee just hasn’t really had any reason to dwell on, lately. There _was_ the short period of time between their hatching and their pupation - where they literally didn’t even have a humanoid body but instead a hard bug shell and six bug feet - but the memories are kinda fuzzy, and really, it was more of a weird, trippy feeling rather than an uncomfortable one.

They _are_ feeling now, though, a little nugget of _wrongness_ at the forefront of their mind as they watch deep purple blood well up on a scraped knee.

They’d just been practicing with their clubkind specibus - their favored specibus. (Even though they get the same result by using their clubs with jokerkind, they like to keep the clubkind as a separate one, since they use it often.) Gamzee royally fucked up a swing; threw themself violently off balance with the combination of the excessive force behind it and their unstable footing, then nearly ate concrete landing awkwardly on their hands and leg.

Gamzee flips up their palms, and watches in a daze as the oddly colored blood slowly wells up over the scraped chitin, dribbling down and winding slightly past their wrists. They hold up their hands and rotate their wrists somewhat, watching how it catches the starlight.

It’s beautiful.

  
  


Their fingers twitch.

_It’s_ **_wrong._ **

  
  


Their blood should be deep red; ruby red, bright cherry-colored red, all of those things. Just- red. Rich, brilliant red. Their blood should _not_ be anywhere _close_ to deeply saturated, vivid dark _purple._

It’s almost like bleeding darkness from their veins, Gamzee thinks, but more vibrant; the color feels, to them, like the mystique of outer space, and as pretty as it is it just _doesn’t. Feel right._

This is… new. They’ve never had problems with things on the _inside_ of their body, before. Mostly just the things that relate to appearance or figure - neither of which have been an issue in their lanky, ambiguous child body.

As pretty as the color itself is, to see it coming from under their own skin unnerves them, so Gamzee licks off the blood dribbling down their wrists so it doesn’t drip all over the place and goes to find the first-aid kit.

  
  


The blood isn’t horribly traumatizing - not by a long shot - but… it’s… unnatural, to them.

  
They’ll have to learn to get used to it. There’s going to be a _lot_ of non-red blood in their future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasnt actually intending for sollux to be coming in ANYWHERE near now when i wrote shit for this chapter, but he kinda just barged his way in lmao. say hi to our resident twinkass hacker :>
> 
> random fun fact: im actually a bard like gamzee! my aspect is heart tho uwu
> 
> im still a bit split on how ill handle the whole classpects situation, but tbh,,,, lets be real. the only way i'm getting heart is if i pry it out of nepeta's cold, dead claws, bless her little shipper heart. so unless i come up with a really fucking good excuse its just gonna be bard of rage lmao
> 
> (the "they" karkat mentions when talking about the signless is firefly, just in case that wasn't clear.)


	4. there’s nothing like contemplating your future to a frankly depressing degree!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im a very introspective person. it tends to show in my writing... guess thats why im a heart player lmao
> 
> also if you think i plan things for my self inserts youre dead fucking wrong. i only plan for non-self insert stories that rarely ever get written so like jhfgjhkdfj,,,, i will legit have pages upon pages of bullet points of plot planning and worldbuilding but actual jack shit in terms of writing the shit in a story format that people would actually read
> 
> (okay i lied but my ajin/bnha au is the exception, not the rule)

So, here’s the thing:

Gamzee isn’t going to count on plot armor to save their timeline.

Because for fucking _one,_ plot armor is a concept that doesn’t fucking exist in real life. And this is as real as real fucking _gets._

No, it doesn’t matter that they have, several times, given thought to a scenario in which this was all the result of just another one of their own fanfics. Either way, even if this hypothetically _were_ not real and a story of some kind (oh, who are they kidding; if this is a story there is exactly _zero_ chance of it being anything other than a lameass self-insert fanfiction), they wouldn’t be getting their happy ending easily. They know themself, and they _know_ that if this is a story, their author-self is going to do their damndest to make them _hurt._ Characters must suffer for the plot, after all.

Motherfucker.

Back on track. They’re familiar with the concept of doomed timelines, and if they want to keep their own from becoming one of the countless others then they’re going to have to _make it_ happen.

They’re aware that their solution is going to be fucking hard to pull off, and it’ll only end in misery for them. That’s fine. ( _It has to be fine._ ) They just don’t want to pull everyone else down with them, if they’re going to be fucked either way. That would be selfish of them.

(They don’t want to die. They don’t want to serve Lord English they don’t want to kill anyone _they don’t want to die._ )

This shit isn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. They’re not sure if they’ve fully accepted their fate, yet, but they’re going to have to eventually.

* * *

Gamzee wakes up to a lavender ceiling.

Eyes half-lidded, they stare sleepily at the pretty color. It doesn’t quite look right - not because it’s ugly or anything, they actually rather like it, but because…

...They don’t have lavender ceilings.

Somehow, Gamzee’s body feels more amenable to getting up than it usually does in the morning. They twist around a little in their bed, relishing in the feel of the unfamiliar but comfy blankets, and-

Wait. Blankets?

They sit up, examining the surface beneath them and, lo and behold! A large bed. Firm mattress, a fluffy blanket and a thin one, three pillows with two lining the walls where they meet at the corner of their bed. Just how they like it, nice and comfy.

They haven’t slept in a bed since before they were a troll. Since they were _human._

Gamzee looks around. The room, which in layout is mostly like their real one, is actually almost entirely a nice pastel shade of lavender. Bright, soft, golden beams of sunlight stream out of the windows into the room.

Their mind does a double-take at the sunlight.

Sun. _Light. Daytime. WARMTH._

Even though a tiny, primal part of them vehemently vetoes their decision, it’s easily ignored as Gamzee almost eagerly hops out of bed and thrusts their face out the window to see outside.

It’s _beautiful._ It’s heaven and it’s beautiful and amazing and they’ve been missing out on _so fucking much_ all these five years.

The sky is lit up with _blue_ and fluffy white, _bright_ white clouds that swirl and bunch up and wisp in every which way and there are _variations of the blue_ just like their thinkpan distantly reminds them of, gradients of blue in the vast sky. That’s half of it, and the other half is where sky blue fades into the deep, deep _black_ of space - just black, black like the void, no moons or stars or _anything,_ only black, and that has its own allure, too. Gold shines from the light reflected off the beautiful, magnificent, _grand_ structures around them and below them and they could stare at this _all day_ and never get tired of it.

A kingdom of gold, in the void of infinite space. Orbiting around its center - its sun, its _Skaia._

“Hello, Prospit,” they breathe, still in awe, drinking in the sights of things they never knew they missed and things they’ve never seen before in either of their two lives.

* * *

From that day on, their dreams are nearly nonexistent; they almost never have dreams, anymore, not until Prospit is destroyed years and years later. When they go to sleep in the morning on Alternia, they immediately wake up again in Prospit, and so it goes. It doesn’t take much to figure out flying - and strangely enough, the fact that _they are in complete control_ of where they go when they fly is what helps them get over their huge fear of heights. They explore Prospit, check on the other towers, occasionally talk to the Prospitians or borrow a couple of books from their libraries.

Karkat is a very cute toddler. Grumpy, as he even frowns in his _sleep_ sometimes, but cute. The others troll kids are, too, of course - absolute babeys, the whole lot of them - but they, personally, feel like Karkat is the most adorable child out of all the rest.

Probably because they’re emotionally attached to him. It’s too bad he doesn’t wake up until Jack Noir destroys Prospit. They’d have really liked to hang out with him here.

There are seven towers in total - strange, for a twelve-player session, but that’s just because Sollux has twice the dreamselves, as per status quo. He’s gotta have his twos.

Today, Gamzee’s hanging out in Sollux’s room and reading up on Prospitian myths. There’s a _lot_ of it, since this is, again, a twelve-player session. The mythology is honestly pretty entertaining, if probably either really obscure in references to future events or complete bullshit.

The latter theory is supported by the fact that they are _absolutely_ sure that Karkat never ends up hooking up with Nepeta later on in the game, but here they are. Reading a myth that displays the obvious sexual tension between the Knight of Blood and Rogue of Heart.

...Okay, so _maybe_ they’re reading what basically amounts to a bunch of romance fanfictions of their to-be friends. Officially, it’s a compilation of romance myths of the ‘gods’, not all of which are factually correct since there’s a bunch of clashing ships, but- _look,_ it’s really just fucking interesting, okay?! It’s a bit drier than fanfiction, but it’s still got some juicy stories in it. And _interesting_ pairings. Especially with all the _quadrants..._

Hey, just because Gamzee’s a troll now doesn’t mean they immediately have an intrinsic understanding of quadrant romance. They still have minimal comprehension of the pitch quadrant. And it all still fascinates them to no end; they can honestly see how Karkat grew to have a huge interest in troll romance. It’s intriguing, especially when more than one quadrant is involved. _Much_ more twisty and interesting than human romance.

But they digress.

They finish the Karkat <3 Nepeta section, which ends with them getting together, as predicted. The child’s eyes immediately float to the next page, glossing over the new relationship’s title.

“...Wait, is that-” Gamzee squints at the bold lettering. “Bard of Rage and Prince of Hope _kismesis?!_ ” Oh, they _need_ to see what that shit’s about. Maybe this’ll be as interesting as the Sollux-Vriska-Feferi ashen story, which had _Vriska_ as the middle leaf and the element of Sollux and Feferi fighting for Karkat’s flushed affections… along with the fact that Sollux was already Vriska’s kismesis, so Vriska was auspitizing to make sure that she wouldn’t be losing her spade.

  
Hmm… nah. Nothing’s going to top _that_ one, they’re pretty sure.

After a long while spent reading (this myth had an _interesting_ take on the basis of the pitch relationship), their mind eventually wanders. It’s rather unavoidable, really, after hours and hours spent fixating on the same kind of material; their attention can be held for a long time, but not forever.

Specifically, their mind wanders out of the hypothetical romance into slightly more realistic thoughts on the topic.

Gamzee would be lying if they said they hadn’t given thought to romance since arriving in this world.

They’re definitely too young for it now, at the tender age of just under three sweeps - hell, they’d felt somewhat too young for it when they were _fifteen,_ and that’s two years older than they all will be when they enter the Medium. But… they’ve thought about it.

The pitch quadrant isn’t really something they’re looking to fill (except they’ll have to, won’t they? They need to pull Terezi into a kismesis on the meteor ~~fuck they don’t want to do that~~ ), but if the opportunity comes… well, they would have liked to take the chance. Flushed, they regard in the same light they do human romance, which is scary and intimidating, and probably hells of complicated and something special that they are _definitely_ never engaging in until they’re sure that their matespirit is someone they want to be in a relationship with. Which never happens (and never will). Such are the trials of being an introverted demisexual. And ashen seems to be more of a thing that just _happens._

The quadrant they’re _really_ interested in is the pale one. Honestly? It sounds like something out of a fucking dream; the kind of best friend- no, queerplatonic partner would be more accurate - that you’d read of in fanfictions. Someone who’s there to help you sort out your problems, support you, be there just to cuddle or for a hug if you need it. QPPs but more romantic, and with no sexual obligations attached. No shame for pouring out your emotions onto them. Just - someone who’s _there._

Uuuuggghhhhh. Figures that they’ll have to fuck up every single relationship they touch, in the future. Terezi? Basically emotional abuse! Karkat? Neglect of relationship. And don’t even get them started on fucking _Tavros-_ well.

Okay, that’s not fair to the Tavros situation. Nothing ever really came from it, as far as they know; it was just a flushcrush, and one that was never properly reciprocated. They probably won’t even heed it at all. It’s not like canon Gamzee’s flush crush on Tavros was plot-important… right?

And on second thought, scratch the Terezi one. That’s only happening if they end up in the doomed timeline - and if _that_ happens, Gamzee’s not sure they’ll be physically capable enough to give enough fucks to fake it. Actually… damn, Karkat doesn’t get into a moirallegiance with Gamzee in the retconned timeline, does he? Gamzee just gets mind-controlled by Vriska and eventually thrown into a fridge with their dead friends’ corpses inside it.

Fun. Fun fun fun fun **_fun._ **

(They are _not_ thinking about what comes after the final battle. No, no, no no no and _nope_ they are _not_ confronting that particular issue _now._ )

They might be a Bard of Rage in this universe, but they were a Bard of Heart in their last life. They have very little doubts about their abilities to royally fuck up a relationship. The real challenge lies in _how_ they fuck it up.

Gamzee would _love_ a nice moirallegiance, but it just isn’t meant to be. If they have to pick up Karkat for their diamond, on the meteor... they hope Karkat isn’t _too_ hurt when Gamzee eventually fucks up their pale quadrant (but they’re pretty damn sure he will be).

They sigh, and stick a scrap of paper in their spot before closing the book. They aren’t in the mood anymore. It’s getting close to waking hours on Alternia, anyways.

The troll floats up to the opening of Sollux’s ‘coon and gently ruffles the sleeping dreamself boy’s hair. They’ll admit to meandering as they exit the window to go back to their tower, the slow pace allowing them to drink in the light of Prospit and Skaia for a few more minutes. Gamzee slips into their room and settles into bed, curling into the pillows in the corner and wrapping the fluffier blanket around themself.

The familiar comfort makes it easy to drift off, even with the complete absence of sopor in their dream room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok like highkey not gonna lie i borrowed the "romance of the gods book" idea off of [SCase](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9465893/chapters/21414758)... its an amusing concept lmao. SCase is basically a detective conan/magic kaito fic, but sburb. its pretty good, so if that kind of thing interests u then go check it out!!
> 
> also, one of these days, gamzee is definitely going to almost burn themself trying to see alternia during the day. theyre almost certainly that special kind of dumbass


	5. just as usual

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im like super inconsistent in responding to comments bc idk like sometimes i just feel like id be repeating myself and my replies would lose their sincerity.... so even if i dont reply to ur comment!!! know u are appreciated and ur nice words motivate me to keep writing!!!!

Not long before their third wriggling day, Gamzee gets their hive renovated. No more mustard yellow windows, thank the gods. (No offense to Sollux, but… yeah. Not their most favorite color ever.) It’s way bigger now, complete with the classic blocky look, a covered balcony on the third floor, and a huge opening at the front of their hive so their lusus can stick his neck in for easier access to the inside. The opening includes what is essentially a larger, glorified garage door. Because of course, who in their right mind would leave such a gaping opening in their hive twenty-four-seven? Not this bitch.

The windows have been changed to that nice sunset orange they wanted when they got their first hive sweeps ago. At the very top of their hive, there’s that iconic dumb umbrella-looking thing, which is a lighter shade of orange dream that barely even counts as orange, with how golden-yellow the color is.

(They vaguely remember that they called the color ‘orange dream’ way back when because it looked like a frozen drink they used to get in elementary and middle school. That was the drink’s name - orange dream. It was from... something Juice. Uh. _Jamba,_ right. Jamba Juice. That was the shit.)

Their hive is _way_ too big for just Gamzee alone, but, well. It’s not like they’re _paying_ for it, so whatever.

The inside is kind of bland, though. Other than a select few rooms, most of the hive doesn’t even see much use. Bedroom, a couple bathrooms, kitchen, living room, laundry room, training room, and the one food storage room reserved entirely for their lusus. That’s about it. There are a bunch of guest rooms that Gamzee doesn’t touch for obvious reasons, plus a movie room they don’t really see the point of with a TV in the living room. They usually only use the art room when painting, which isn’t often, and the pantry is pretty empty, since their non-refrigerated food all fits in the kitchen cabinets. There are several unused closets and other empty blocks that they _might_ repurpose later for other things. Might. If they ever bother.

Despite all this room to store their shit in, Gamzee’s room is still hella cluttered, as per usual. They’re a teenager. Kind of. _Either way,_ teenager or six year-old child, messy rooms are to be expected. And, contrary to popular belief, their room - respiteblock - is _not_ decked out in clown apparel and horns.

Okay, maybe there are a _few_ horns. They got a whole bunch of them just because (and for far-in-the-distant-future plot-relevant reasons), but the little suckers have grown on Gamzee. They like the little _honk_ sound the rubber ball horns make. It’s weirdly cathartic.

_Anyways,_ Gamzee’s room is _not_ decorated in tons of clown stuff. Though they _have_ actually taken a mild genuine interest in the subjugglator religion - simply referred to as the Dark Carnival - they’re not really invested in it. They might check out the performances in one of the cities, sometime, but… yeah, no. They ain’t _that_ far gone yet.

Mostly, the only thing on their walls are a large whiteboard - full of colorful marker scribbles of doodles and notes - and a sparse few art pieces and photos tacked to the drywall. They’re not too bad; that’s why they’re up there, after all. Gamzee wouldn’t pin up a supremely shitty doodle or anything they didn’t think was good enough for display. They’d honestly be ashamed of themself.

What? They had a _life_ before getting reincarnated as a baby six-legged grub of a troll! Drawing was one of their hobbies, albeit a less-practiced one, since their skills and ability to practice in many mediums were limited, and it was difficult to come up with things they’d want to make art of. Mostly, they had just used pencil, and sometimes colored pencil and pen.

Drawing with their chubby, baby child hands took some getting used to, but they’ve got the hang of it now. The child even bought some paints and a drawing tablet to attempt to improve in those mediums as well, though they’re a bit iffy on the subject of exactly _where_ the paints came from. They remember pretty clearly that _something,_ somewhere, mentioned that troll’s blood was sometimes used in paints.

...Moving on. Yes, drawing is a hobby of theirs; less surprisingly, so is reading and writing. Yes, they’re a nerd. So are you. We’re all nerds here, deal with it.

They’re too fond of writing to give it up, so they still continue at it, even if losing all their progress on past fanfictions and being unable to look up references for newly-concocted ones from their old human fandoms is a major pain in the ass. They don’t write anything Homestuck anymore, though. Draw, sometimes, but never write. It doesn’t feel right - not when everything is now so _real._

(They keep a journal, though.)

They have a bookshelf of notebooks and books-books and sketchbooks and binders of loose paper in their respiteblock. Their non-paint art supplies tend to get stored there, too, along with a knitting project they’d started recently and little trinkets they pick up on the rare occasions they go outside for anything other than their self-mandated runs. A good chunk of them are seashells they find on the beach, where they can see what they think is Eridan’s hive if they look at the ocean in twilight and squint. Their phone camera’s zoom function supports this theory, however grainy the evidence.

(Twilight is always the best - the sky is painted in soft colors so varied they’d need paragraphs and paragraphs of words to describe it, and it’s only really stuffy instead of burning, swelteringly hot like the sunrises and sunsets of Alternia tend to be. They have lots of sky pictures on their palmhusk. _Aaaaaaaall_ the sky pictures.)

A binder of their human drawings are stored on their bookshelf, as well.

Those are the things that they’re wary of leaving out in the open, even if they’re really good; even if no one else is ever coming in here, and anyways they can easily play it off as being artistic and shit and making up an alien species.

For the most part, their notebooks are written in a deliberate mix of English and Alternian, so it’s nearly impossible to glean anything particularly meaningful or incriminating from them. Call it hubris, but they’re really not too worried about those. It’s the art they’re cautious about, because _that_ doesn’t need words to be understood.

They like drawing humans. They like drawing _Earth things._ They don’t like the idea of _forgetting_ what humans and Earth used to look like - so they draw them, and they try not to forget. They draw humans with more color diversity than they did before. They sketch out vague figures of human cities, they color the sky and the sun. They paint the Earth in all its blue and green and white glory, unlike the dark grey of Alternia. They draw humans bleeding red blood.

The red blood is what they’re especially worried about. They really like incorporating drippy liquids into their art, and blood is an easy one; but _red_ is a dangerous color in a blood-casted Alternia. Still, they try not to concern themself over it too much, because no one has a reason to search their hive unless they act overly suspicious. So the binder just stays on their bookshelf, since keeping it hidden well is definitely more suspicious than tucking it on a shelf to blend in with the others.

  
  


They’ll probably need to take this all down before the Game, but Gamzee just wants to have their own damn life, for now.

* * *

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] started trolling carcinoGemeticist [CG] at 20:35 --

TC: hAPpY wRiGgLiN nIgHt, Cg! HoNk :o)

CG: THANKS. THREE SWEEPS OLD NOW, WHOO.

TC: aW, cG! yA gOtTa Be A tAd BiT mOrE eXcItEd ThAn ThAt!

CG: IT’S JUST THE NIGHT I PUPATED OUT OF MY COCOON LIKE LITERALLY EVERY OTHER WIGGLER OUT THERE. MY WRIGGLING NIGHT IS NOT ANYTHING TO BE OVERLY EXCITED ABOUT.

TC: aW, c’MoOoOoOn, Cg

TC: oF cOuRsE iT’s An ImPoRtAnT nIgHt! i WoUlD eVeN sAy It’S dOwNrIgHt MiRaCuLoUs

TC: :o))))))))

CG: UH HUH.

TC: rEaLlY

TC: iT’s ThE nIgHt My BeSt BrO wAs PuPaTeD, oF cOuRsE iT wOuLd Be ThE mOsT mOtHeRfUcKiN mIrAcUlOuS nIgHt EvEr!

TC: ...cG? yA sTiLl ThErE??

TC: yA iDlE??? yOu’Ve BeEn SiLeNt FoR a CoUpLa MiNuTes

CG: I

CG: YEAH, NO, I’M HERE.

CG: AND, KARKAT.

CG: IT’S KARKAT. VANTAS.

TC: !!!!! :o0

TC: i’M gAmZeE mAkArA

CG: HOLY SHIT YOU TYPED THAT FAST.

TC: :oD

CG: WELL, HEY. NICE TO FINALLY KNOW YOUR NAME.

TC: yOu ToO, mY mIrAcUlOuS pItYfRiEnD kArBrO :o)

CG: OH GOG, YOU ALREADY HAVE A NICKNAME?!

TC: :o)))))))))

CG: I TAKE IT BACK. THIS WAS A MISTAKE. THIS WAS CLEARLY A MISTAKE.

TC: aW, dOn’T bE lIkE tHaT, kArBrO!

TC: iF iT mAkEs yOu FeEl BeTtEr, I cAlL eVeRyOnE lIkE tHaT

CG: YOU DON’T HAVE AN “EVERYONE” TO CALL LIKE THAT!!!

TC: sEmAnTiCs

CG: NO, IT IS NOT!!!

TC: HoNk :o)

* * *

Gamzee is totally lost.

They’d just wanted to explore the nearby residential area, and Goatdad had decided that yeah, sure, they’re getting closer to three and a half sweeps old; they could handle themself, he didn’t have to take them _everywhere_ anymore.

Clearly, that was a mistake, because Gamzee has no fucking clue which way they even _came from_ in the first place, much less their relative location to fuckall anywhere in these damn suburbs.

Ugh.

Their palmhusk is nearly dead, which isn’t helping matters. In a futile attempt to preserve its remaining battery, they set it on the highest power-saving mode it has. So Gamzee has been wandering aimlessly around these seemingly endless, twisting rows of houses for the last… hell, they don’t know. Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Thirty, even?

They find themself at the dead end of another street. The little troll sighs, an annoyed little _click-click_ nicely punctuating the sound, and pivots around slowly on their heel. Wrong way, again. Seriously, this is getting fucking ridiculous. They weren’t _this_ bad at directional awareness, last they checked!

Gamzee stares up at the moons as they walk. The pink one isn’t even visible anymore, and the green one is worryingly close to the horizon. Sunrise will be in maybe somewhat over an hour, two hours if they’re lucky. Didn’t the walk to these suburbs take at least forty-five minutes?

With a renewed sense of urgency, they pick up the pace, updating their admittedly somewhat unreliable mental map of ways they’d already checked. It should _not_ be this hard to get out of the damn suburbs. Fuck.

“Hey, pupa.” Gamzee stops, blinking for a couple of seconds. They finish setting their front foot flat to the ground, then turn around to look at the speaker.

It’s a teenage-looking burgundy, not really particularly stocky nor lean. His sign doesn’t ring a bell, so it can’t be like Aradia’s, but it’s pretty. It has nice, round, curving parts that make it look graceful.

The teenager also seems pretty big, towering over them, but that’s just because Gamzee is seven and tiny and short. For now.

“What’re you doing around these parts?” the teen questions, with that click-chirp (the chirp being higher-pitched) they’ve come to associate with inquisitiveness.

The child just shrugs, despite the nervousness set in their muscles at _actual human- er, person interaction,_ and says, “Explorin’. Kinda lost, though.”

A hum. “Oh, really?”

“Uh huh.” An idea pops into their head. This person likely lives around these parts, ergo he must have a functioning electronic device! “Hey, d’you got a map or something?” Gamzee asks, careful to include the questioning _click-chirp_ at the last word. From their (extremely) limited interactions with other trolls, they’ve gleaned that not using it is pretty much the verbal equivalent of writing a period instead of a question mark at the end of a sentence. “My palmhusk’s dead, I’d really appreciate it if you could help me out. Sunrise’s soon.”

The burgundy troll thinks on it for a moment, observing the child. Then: “Well, what do I get out of it?”

They blink. “...Uh. What?” In their surprise, they forget about the verbal question mark until it’s too late to hastily tack it on to the end.

The elder troll smirks at them, and suddenly, he doesn’t seem much like the helpful kind of folk anymore. “I said, what do I get out of helping you, _pupa?_ ” A _click-chirrup,_ with a bit of emphasis at the end _;_ that was definitely more of a _chirrup_ than a _chirp,_ which probably has some kind of significance they aren’t aware of.

They don’t have to be a genius linguist to identify the mocking tone to his voice, though, and Gamzee bristles slightly at the insult to their maturity _because they are fucking fifteen thank you very much._ But that’s probably what the dude wants, so they unstiffen their muscles and take a calming breath. “ _Not_ leavin’ a three sweep-old out in the sun to bake and die?” they suggest sarcastically, pointedly not forgetting a more aggressive verbal question mark this time. “Look, brother, I ain’t lookin’ for trouble, here. I just need to get home before the motherfuckin’ sun comes up. Do you have a map?”

He pauses again to consider, sticking a hand in his pocket. The teen almost seems to analyze them. Why the _fuck-_

They catch his eyes looking a little lower than their face, and _ah._ That’s why.

Their sign is obviously purple. He’s _burgundy._ Of course he’d be wary, fuck. Goddammit. Probably doesn’t help that they’re wearing clown face paint, either. Damn blood caste system. They just want to go the fuck home before the sunrise kills their cold-blooded ass, is that too much to ask?!

Just as they’re about to give up on getting any assistance from this guy and resume their futile attempts to find a way out of the _labyrinth_ that is the damn suburbs, he shrugs and says, “Sure, why not?” The teen pulls out a laptop - laphusktop? Portable husktop? - and waves them over. “C’mere, I’ll open Grubble Maps and you can find your hive, a’right?”

Gamzee brightens a little at the invitation. “Thanks!” they chirp, and go over to _finally_ find a way out of this twisty maze of a residential area.

* * *

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] opened private bulletin board YELL HEAH MOTHERUFCKERS --

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] added carcinoGeneticist [CG] to board YELL HEAH MOTHERUFCKERS --

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] added twinArmageddons [TA] to board YELL HEAH MOTHERUFCKERS --

**~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~**

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] opened memo on board YELL HEAH MOTHERUFCKERS --

TC: hOnk HOnK hOnK hOnk HOnK HonK!!!! :o)))))))))))

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] responded to memo --

CG: WHAT IN THE BULGESHITTING FUCK IS THIS.

TC: :o))))))))))))))))))

CG: TC, CLOWN FACES DON’T COUNT AS A PROPER FUCKING ANSWER!

TC: :o) :o) :o) hElLo MoTHeRfUCkErS

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] responded to memo --

TA: we are all goiing to regret thii2 iin under two hour2.

TC: nAH, MoTHeRFUckEr

TC: tHIS iS a GreAt IdeA!!!! HonK :o )

TA: holy 2hiit what the fuck are you hiigh on TC?

CG: THAT’S WHAT I WAS GOING TO ASK.

CG: HE IS USUALLY METICULOUS AS FUCK WITH HIS QUIRK, BUT LOOK AT THAT FUCKING ATROCITY NOW. IT’S EVEN MORE HORRENDOUS THAN USUAL.

TC: oH, YEah, yKNoW!!!

TC: jUsT SoME BulLsHiT PrOBaBlY A SoPoRiFIc DruG haPPEnEd

CG: ***WHAT?!?!?!?***

TC: BuT nO WoRirEs Im HomE nOW!!!

TC: nO THAnKs To MiSTeR bUrguNdy >:o(

TA: waiit, you’re 2eriiou2ly hiigh?

TC: SeRIioUS As BurNInG iN THe Sun :o)

TA: ii wa2 ju2t fuckiing jokiing, ii diidn’t think you would actually be hiigh!

TC: hOnK HonK HOnk : o ) ) )) )) )

CG: WHY IN JEGUS’ NAME ARE YOU HIGH ON SOPORIFICS, HOLY FUCK.

TA: he al2o mentiioned someone ru2tblood, don’t forget.

TC: wElL, ItS a LoNG StoRy LMaO

CG: THEN YOU’D BETTER GET YOUR GRASP PRONGS FUCKING MOVING.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D


	6. havent you ever heard of stranger danger goddAMMIT??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohhhh boy. 3k, whoo! wasnt expecting that much when i started writing this scene but yeet, i think i like how it turned out
> 
> but okay so like the thing is  
> i am not sure how to write panic attacks. or if gamzee's freakout in this chapter classifies as a panic attack (though im pretty sure it does). it kind of just happened; my writing style leans heavily towards "just writing what i feel is right" so it's just what i thought should have occurred there. sorry if its inaccurate, i tried :P
> 
> *edit: okay so i figured i should probably slap a tw onto some of this shit, so. **TW: killing trolls to use their blood for paint.**
> 
> alright. now, on with the story!

Twilight is definitely the prettiest time of day, Gamzee muses, gazing at the sky rushing past them in the warm, warm air. They aren’t feeling the heat as much with the wind, but it’s there, getting still hotter by the minute.

A hand shakes them out of their peaceful bubble of hazy sky-gazing. “Hey, kid. You with me?”

They blink slowly, then nod.

“Good. That’s your hive down there?”

It takes them a few seconds to register the fact that the other is asking them to identify their hive. Gamzee shifts to peer over the wings of the lusus they’re both riding on. There’s a beach below them, the lusus soaring over it in low, swooping circles, and a hive with pretty sunset orange windows and an orange dream umbrella.

Oh. Right. That’s _their_ hive.

“Yeah, ‘s my hive alright,” they say, looking around for their lusus. Surely Goatdad must be around here somewhere...?

_KR-SPLOOOOOOOOSH._ “ **_BLAAAA-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-A-AAAAHH!!!_ **”

OH FUCK.

“ _OH FUCK,_ ” Gamzee’s companion yells, and their lusus narrowly avoids the jaws of a _very angry_ Goatdad _pouncing_ out of the water. Holy shit. They may not be sharp, but those chompers are _fucking huge._

“Oh shitmonkeys,” Gamzee says, way calmer than but at the same time exactly as calm as they feel, staring back at their infuriated lusus as the three of them swoop out of range. “Goatdad’s not happy.”

“YOU FUCKING _THINK-_ WAIT, THAT’S _YOUR_ LUSUS?! OH SHIT HE’S CHASING AFTER US, _FUCK._ ”

* * *

Insert ear-ripping record scratch here.

You must be wondering how the fuck this all happened. Well, I’m not going to drag this out; let’s just get back to Gamzee and the other burgundyblooded dude, alright?

What? The Goatdad scene? _No,_ not that one. We _just_ cut that scene, that happened for a reason, okay?!

Yes, we’re talking about the one from last chapter. Now, let’s get back to where we left off _there,_ okay? Good? Good. We’ll stop the extremely meta narration before this somehow becomes a distraction to the _actual_ story and goes completely off the rails.

* * *

This was a really bad idea.

“I’m going to scream,” Gamzee informs the owner of the arm wrapped around their midsection. “I’m going to scream really, _really_ loudly, and then I’ll beat you with my clubs until you _let me the fuck go._ ”

They are currently being carried off to fuck knows where by this _stupid fucking bastard_ like a sack of goddamn potatoes, one large arm pinning down their own skinnier ones and the other hand clamping their wrists together in an unforgiving, oven-warm grip. They should _not_ have let that fucker get into grabbing range, _aaaaaughh._ Fucking _bitch._

“Not gonna happen, little pupa,” the burgundyblood says easily, still carrying their stick-of-a-child self like nobody’s fucking business, and a clicking growl builds up in their throat. He laughs, and even though they can’t see his face they wish they could so they can _fucking_ **_punch him_ ** _in it._ “No one in these parts are gonna help you, if they even bother to look outside. Lots of us have grudges against pompous _bruisebloods_ like you.”

They can _hear_ the goddamn sneer in his voice, and the slow, aggressive _click-click-click_ emphasizing his word choice, and it pisses them off more than the apparent slur surprises them. Because of course lowbloods would have a slur for highbloods. Why not? Lowblood slurs definitely exist, so why not highblood ones, too?

Fucking caste system.

“I haven’t done shit to you!” Gamzee protests. “I’ve just been walkin’ around, an’ had the misfortune to get lost around _you,_ since evi-fuckin’-dently you don’t give a shit about who I am or what I done, just my fucking _blood color,_ ” they snarl, using the same series of clicks that their captor had ( _Captor,_ hah). “Hypocri-”

The word cuts off with a little strangled noise, and they claw uselessly at the hand trying to fucking _compress_ their wrist bones together while the other arm chokes the air out of their stomach. The pain isn’t helped by the substantial warmth of his body compared to theirs, since heat usually comes with injuries.

“You don’t know _anything,_ ” he hisses, a rapid handful of high clicks coming with the emphasized bit, and though they can’t see him Gamzee would bet he’s positively _spitting_ those words right now. “You’re probably a sheltered little grub, aren’t you? Tucked away in your fuckoff huge hive with a _powerful, noble_ lusus to take care of you... you don’t know fucking _shit._ ”

Air rushes back into their throat in the middle of a wheezing breath, and they gasp as the pressure on their sternum releases and _sweet sweet oxygen_ fills their lungs. A few coughs, then they quickly regulate their breaths into a more normal pace. “What’re you even gonna do with me? S’not like you can do anythin’ without gettin’ culled,” they say, still slightly breathless from the - well, lack of breath. “I don’t mean it as a threat, you will _literally_ get culled if you do sum’n to me and ya get caught.”

While it’s _true_ that a lowblood attacking a fucking _purpleblood_ would be basically guaranteed grounds for culling, scarce as purplebloods are, they doubt he cares if he’s already kidnapping them. They’re in a horrible position to reach any tender spots they could bite with their sharp teeth and their feet can only reach his stomach, which they’ve already _tried_ kicking. They definitely can’t angle their head in any way their horns can be used to stab at him, either. Fuck.

“I’m practically slated for culling already.” The teen laughs again, but there’s a bitter edge to it this time, and an almost inaudible low chirp. “Try all you like, but you aren’t escaping.”

“You don’t have to fuckin’ _speed up_ your death, even if that’s the case!” It’s not going to work. The fucker seems _set._ Is this where they die? _Really?_ Dooming their timeline _before they even reach their fourth fucking sweep?_

They reach a hive. Gamzee belatedly realizes that, oops, maybe they should have been more proactive about escaping! Now they’re being taken into their assailant’s hive. _His_ territory. **_Fuck._ **

“I’m nearly ten sweeps old.” They struggle harder to escape, but _nope,_ their lanky child figure has nothing on the teen - _young adult’s_ larger frame. (He looks younger than he actually is, _fuck._ ) “Barely missed the last conscription; this sweep’s is in a few perigees. I don’t _have_ time, so if I’m getting culled, well. Might as well take down one of _you_ with me, and maybe make things easier on my quadrantmates, too.” He wrests Gamzee into a slightly different position that lets him both pin down their torso and hold their wrists with one arm, freeing up the other one for whatever the fuck reason.

“What the fuck do you mean?!” they demand, yelling louder this time since _clearly they are an absolute dumbass and yelling is what they should have been doing all this fucking time._ “Your quadrantmates? What the _fuck_ does grubnappin’- _ow!_ ”

Again, they get cut off by a garbled little noise of their own, except this time it’s less lack of breath and more in pain because _ow. Fucking ow._ What the fuck stabbed their leg- _is that a fucking EPIPEN WHAT THE FUCK._

“DID YOU JUST STAB ME WITH AN EPIPEN?!” they shout as he puts the thing back in his pocket.

“Shut up, and I have no idea what the fuck an ‘epipen’ is.” Yeah, they figured, since they said it in English. And _anyways that’s not the issue here._

“ _What-_ ”

“I’ll give you another dose, if you keep talking. Great sedative, but not too good for the thinkpan.”

Dose. Sedative.

As in _drugs._

They shut up.

Gamzee still can’t see his damn face, what with their body hanging off his shoulder with their head end facing his back, so they settle for glaring at his stupid shoes.

Their head feels slightly fuzzy. Guh. That can’t be a good sign.

“Well, it can’t hurt to tell you.” They feel him shrug. “Dunno about you, but I hear blood-based purple paint sells damn well on the black market.”

Their blood runs _cold._

They hear something tinkle and jingle slightly - probably keys - and oh gods oh fuck they’re going to die aren’t they. “‘Course, it’s not legal, and likely to get you culled-” They’re too aware of their breathing, they’re starting to hear the bristle of every hair on their head as it shifts slightly with each breath. “-and raw blood also sells for a little less, but like I said.” Their heart pounds slowly louder in their chest, in their ears, in their face and under the skin where their stomach is pinned between the burgundyblood’s arms and neck and shoulder, the temperature feverish, _burning_ on their skin. “I’m already done for.” Fuck fuck _fuck fuck fuck-_

Shuddering breaths. A stone painfully lodged in their throat. They haven’t felt this kind of fear in so long but it’s so distant _but it’s so much worse_ what what _what no why they can’t die like this_ **_they can’t die like this_ ** _no no no pleasepleaseplease-_

“I’m getting culled either way, so might as well make some cash to help my quadrantmates survive conscription night.”

  
  


(It almost sounds as if he’s convincing himself, and that’s what they hate the most.)

  
  


The basically-an-adult troll has unlocked the door and it’s opening, but everything is distant and meaningless and mostly they can’t think anything except they’re going to die. They’re going to die they’re going to die they’regoingtodie hahah _ahahahahahahahahahAHAHAHAHAHA_

They’re on the ground.

They’re on the ground and curled into themself and laughing breathlessly with wet cheeks but no one is trying to pick them up. This is good, they think, and compress themself into a tighter ball of Gamzee and just laugh and laugh quietly, cheeks stretched so wide it hurts, until they run out of laughs and they can’t laugh anymore.

Then they breathe. Just - _breathe._ Breathing feels alien; their eyes sting slightly, wet with familiar-unfamiliar tears that they haven’t cried in a long time. Fear still courses through their veins and tenses their every muscle but they try not to focus on that, just breathing in and out, in and out slowly, feeling as the rock in their throat subsides and leaves only a phantom of pain behind.

Inhale. Exhale. Slowly, slowly. Let the tears continue to run down your face, they’ll all get out eventually so there’s no point in hiding them. Try not to get snot all over the place, because that’s just gross and it’s a better thing to focus on than what caused it in the first place.

They calm down ridiculously quickly, for how big of a scare they’d had earlier. Not long after, they slowly sit up and wipe the fluids from their face. Their head feels hazy, which is _weird_ because that’s only ever happened _maybe_ once in their lives when not related to sleepiness and never as obviously as this. Fear usually sharpens things, makes their thoughts race - it exhausts them, but it doesn’t make them… _drowsy_ isn’t quite the right word. It’s close, but they’re not quite _sleepy._ It’s just that things seem distant, still. Kind of… like…

“Holy shit, kid, you look _stoned._ ”

Uh.

Gamzee blinks up at the person standing before them. Another burgundy person, based off the sign, but the sign is different - the circle in the middle kind of reminds them of a clown’s nose, which makes them grin slightly. It definitely helps that the curvy shape cupping the bottom of it looks like the jawline of a face, with an open top and ends that flare out to the sides - like a jester’s hat or something.

“Hey,” they say, definitely several seconds too late. Oops. Their reaction time is flagging, heh.

The new person sighs. Though still far taller than Gamzee, they’re shorter and more heavyset than the troll who’d tried to kidnap them.

Oh. Right. They almost got kidnapped. What happened to…?

“Those chucklevoodoos were yours, weren’t they,” the troll grumbles, a little _click-click_ in the middle of the sentence, and Gamzee blinks even more exaggeratedly at them. Like a cat. Meowbeast. Heheh. _Meowbeasts,_ what a funny name. “I come here expecting a fucking _subjugglator,_ with all that fear shit, but nope. It’s a damn kid.”

“...What chucklevoodoos?” Gamzee asks, five seconds before their brain figures it out on their own. Odd. Their thinkpan is running slower than usual. Usually the foot-in-the-mouth asking-a-question-seconds-before-figuring-out-the-answer thing doesn’t take _that_ long to kick in.

They’re still not sure, though, so it was still a good thing they asked.

“...The chucklevoodoos that swept as far as four hives down the street from here? Seriously, you scared us all shitless. We thought a juggalo was here to cull someone, and we’re all going crazy on Trollian trying to figure out why.”

“Oh.” They look down at themself, then finally notice the unconscious dude who tried to kidnap them lying two feet behind-and-to-the-left of them, right next to the front door. They carefully scoot another foot away from him, just in case. “Guess that was me. Sorry.”

There was a _lot_ of fear, that they remember. They were very scared and distressed. It would make sense, if it was Gamzee.

Also, this is a lowblood community. Purplebloods just generally don’t _live_ here. Or be here in general. Gamzee is a special case, they think. Probably. Or maybe it’s just that there aren’t many purplebloods in the first place.

“...Are you okay?” A slow _click-chirp_ \- kind of cautious, they think. They decide then that troll communication is _weird._

The shorter older troll’s face is level with theirs, now, and Gamzee stares in surprise for a couple of seconds. They look away, having a sudden urge to chew on something to soothe their nerves. They remember the first time they accidentally gnawed the skin off their hand by absentmindedly indulging in the habit. They’d learned to curb it pretty fast, lest their sharp, no longer flat teeth keep piercing through their skin every time they tried.

There’s nothing here that they can safely chew on, so they settle for running their fingers through their perpetually messy hair, yanking on it lightly at the nape of their neck.

Then they remember that the person asked a question. Oops.

“Yeah,” they say, in a way too late reply. “Absolutely peachy.”

They furrow their brows in a way that says the person absolutely _does not_ believe them, which, okay. Fair.

“You don’t _look_ ‘absolutely peachy’.”

...Yeah, okay. They probably don’t.

The two of them stare at each other for a long, uncomfortable moment.

Eventually, Gamzee notices the brightening and coloring sky above them. It’s getting warmer. They break the awkward silence, and say, “I gotta go home. Sunrise’s soon.”

But before they can do much more than shift into a better position for standing up, the other troll lets out a quick, high _clickclickclick_ and stops them. (What does _that_ one mean??) “Wait, wait - you’re seriously going to try and walk home at _twilight?_ You don’t live nearby, do you? The sun’ll come up before then!”

Gamzee shrugs, and pushes themself up. They wobble slightly, after all that stress and not standing for so long, but their legs are perfectly capable of holding their own weight and walking on their own. The nicer ( ~~still suspicious~~ ) burgundy troll doesn’t seem to think so, however.

“You’re not going to make it before sunrise,” they continue to protest. “Hell, you won’t survive ten minutes in sunrise, you’re literally the coldest anyone not a goddamn seadweller gets!”

That gives them pause.

Is it really worth it to risk survival on such a dumb action right after avoiding death by grubnapper?

Hm. Probably not. The whole point was _not_ to die, after all.

“...So, what do _you_ suggest?” they say warily, shifting their feet slightly more apart for balance. Their hands are at their sides, ready to whip out their clubs the second this troll shows signs of danger.

* * *

CG: SO. YOU WENT WITH THE RANDOM STRANGER ONTO THEIR FEATHERBEAST LUSUS.

CG: IMMEDIATELY AFTER NEARLY BEING GRUBNAPPED BY *ANOTHER* RANDOM STRANGER WHO WANTED TO SQUEEZE YOU INTO FUCKING **PAINT** AS A GIFT FOR HIS QUADRANTMATES.

CG: OH, YES, IT IS OBVIOUSLY THE MOST SENSIBLE DECISION TO GO WITH THE **LITERAL GOGDAMN STRANGER** THAT JUST SO HAPPENED TO APPEAR RIGHT AFTER YOU ESCAPED FROM THE CLUTCHES OF YOUR FIRST GRUBNAPPER! THERE IS CERTAINLY ABSOLUTELY *NOTHING* WRONG WITH THIS TRAIN OF THOUGHT, BECAUSE OF COURSE IT IS THE MOST LOGICAL DECISION IN THE HISTORY OF CHOICE-MAKING TO GO! WITH THE FUCKING!! ***STRANGER!!!***

TC: i WoUlD bE fRyInG iN tHe SuN rIgHt NoW iF iT wErEn’T fOr ThEm

CG: YEAH, BUT WHAT IF THEY ACTUALLY WANTED TO GRUBNAP YOU, TOO?! OR WORSE YET, WHAT IF THEY WERE, OH I DON’T KNOW, AN *ACCOMPLICE* OF THE GRUBFUCKER YOU TOOK DOWN?!?!

TC: lOoK i’M nOt DoNe WiTh ThE sToRy YeT

TC: cHiLl

TA: a2 much a2 ii agree wiith CG, we 2hould probably let TC fiinii2h before we go off track and all of u2 end up forgettiing about iit.

TA: we are haviing WORD2 afterward2, though.

TC: :o( hOnK

TA: ju2t get on wiith iit already.

TC: oKaY

TC: sO tHe NiCe BuT sTiLl SuSpIcIoUs BuRgUnDy SiBlInG eNdEd AlL uP aNd CoNvInCiN mE tO lEt ThEm GiVe Me A rIdE

* * *

-which, as such, leads us back here. Goatdad, already antsy at the continued absence of his grub so close to sunrise, flipping to _absolutely infuriated_ when he sees another lusus invading _his_ and his grub’s territory.

Yeah. Not a great combination, when said missing grub is riding on the back of the lusus he’s trying to tear apart.

“Yeah, that’s my lusus,” Gamzee remarks offhandedly. “Lemme, just- wait-wait- _woah-_ ” The child nearly falls off the quickly-flying featherbeast lusus’ back trying to stand up. Their new acquaintance, thankfully, quickly grabs them around the waist and steadies them before they fall.

“You nookmunching _idiot,_ you can’t just _do that-_ ” the elder hisses.

“HEY, GOATDAD!” Gamzee shouts.

“WHAT ARE YOU _DOING-_ oh.”

Surprisingly, Goatdad quickly screeches to a halt, spraying sand high into the air and nearly hitting the two trolls and the featherbeast lusus. The smaller bird-lusus chirps annoyedly, but nonetheless slows their speed to a more sedate pace before stopping, keeping a safe distance from Goatdad just in case.

“Huh. He stopped.” The adescolent’s arms are still wrapped tightly around the child’s waist. They let go, after making sure the kid won’t fall. 

Gamzee nods. “Yeah. Figured he wouldn’t wanna murder us if I were with ya.”

“...So, can we go down there without getting ripped to shreds, now?”

Gamzee spaces out for a moment, considering the options. “I’ll yell at Goatdad to let us land.”

  
  


The nice burgundyblood - whose name is apparently Piumma - ends up staying in one of the guest rooms. Goatdad still doesn’t like them much, but he grudgingly allows them to stay the day without continued attempts to maul them for being in his territory. 

* * *

TA: …

TC: wHaT?

TA: 2o. you’re 2ayiing that the liiteral 2tranger ii2 2leepiing iin your hiive riight now.

TC: sHuT uP

TC: i WoUlD hAvE bEeN tOaStY cLoWn RiGhT nOw If It WeReN’t FoR tHeM! iT’s NoT rIgHt To MaKe *ThEm* ToAsTy BuRgUnDy AfTeR tHeY sAvEd My AsS

TA: you could at lea2t be more cautiiou2

TC: :o/

CG: DAMMIT, TC.

CG: YOU TRUST TOO MUCH.

TC: :oP

TC: aNyWaY, i’M gOiNg To ‘CoOn

TC: cRoSs My GrAsP pRoNgS aNd HoPe It DoEsN’t MaKe Me HiGhEr ThAn ThE mEsSiAhs AgAiN

CG: YEAH. YOU DO THAT.

CG: YOU’RE PROBABLY GOING TO NEED THE SLEEP.

TA: feel free two me22age me twoday iif you need. ii’ll be up workiing on a project, anyway2.

TC: oKaY

TC: g’DaY, cG, tA

CG: YOU TOO.

TA: goodday.

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] ceased responding to memo --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gamzee is still big dumbass energy. this is a certified fact  
> (*glances at tags* shhhh nobody tell them what the epipen sedative was yet)
> 
> also;  
> me: *looks at summary*  
> me: *looks at what little i read of homestuck^2 before realizing that wasn't the epilogues*  
> me:  
> me:  
> me: so like  
> me: fuck me ig because gamzee actually DOES survive and make it to the new universe  
> me: EXCEPT VRISSY GOES AND FUCKIN KILLS HIM IG LMAO.
> 
> (but shhhh. our gamzee here doesn't know that :> )
> 
> if u were curious, piumma's sign is arcen [the companion], while the (currently) unnamed kidnapper's sign is aro [the lost]! piumma comes from piuma, which means feather in... i think italian. i forgot. i was just running through multiple language translations for "feather" until google translate spat out a nice-sounding one.


	7. littering is dangerous, kids; aka, why the miracle modus sucks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the miracle modus is bullshit and as such i can make bullshit nonexistent rules for it and no one can stop me

Admittedly, they should have seen this coming.

Nightmares- or, well, _daymares._ They’re a bitch. A whole bitch. Gamzee never got them often, but it fucking sucks when they do. Still, this was arguably worse than any other one they’ve had before, if only for the sheer “how much does this distress me immediately after waking up” factor to it.

They suppose that nearly getting kidnapped and murdered for blood paint probably has a little side effect of trauma.

They end up not going back to sleep afterwards; not as much because they _can’t,_ but more that they just don’t feel like it. A long, warm shower helps a bit, wakes them up and makes them feel refreshed.

It’s not all that great in terms of distraction, however. So they log onto Trollian on their husktop, because it’s two in the fucking afternoon and they have a guest over so they don’t want to wake them up with anything particularly loud. Thankfully, Sollux is online, and he replies pretty quickly.

  
  


\-- terminallyCascading [TC] started trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 14:18 --

TC: hEy

TA: hey.

TA: you alriight?

TC: yEaH jUsT fInE

TC: dIdN’t FeEl LiKe GoIn BaCk To SlEeP, s’AlL

TA: okay.

TC: wHaTcHa Up To

TA: ju2t codiing a new viiru2 for anyone who deciide2 iit would be a great iidea two me22 wiith my 2hiit

TC: hAh

TC: nIcE

TA: you doiing anythiing?

TC: dUnNo

TC: jUsT sTuFf, I gUeSs

  
  


They get a _ping_ from someone else. Must be Karkat; he’s online now, too. They open a tab of their messages with him.

  
  


\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] started trolling terminallyCascading [TC] at 14:21 --

CG: YOU’RE AWAKE?

TC: yEaH

TC: aFtErNoOn, KaRbRo

CG: AFTERNOON.

CG: HOW ARE YOU DOING?

TC: gEeEeEz, YoU aNd Ta WoRrY tOo MuCh

CG: OH, I BEG TO DIFFER.

TC: i’M pErFeCtLy FiNe

TC: hOnK :o)

CG: YOU’D BETTER NOT BE LYING.

TC: rEaLlY i’M gReAt

  
  


And so it goes. Both conversations eventually move on to more inane topics. Sollux eventually goes to sleep, but Karkat, who also just woke up, stays awake to the setting of the sun. Gamzee decides to go outside, and messages Karkat a goodbye before logging off.

Twilight. Really fucking pretty. Nothing else needs to be said. They drink in the sights of the fading, multicolored sky, just standing there and staring wistfully for a few minutes.

Then they move on to the next activity: trying to catch a decent shot of Eridan’s hive. They’re almost certain it’s Eridan’s hive, by now, though they’re not sure how they could confirm without actually rowing out there themself. Which they’re not exactly willing to risk. The seas of Alternia can be _dangerous._

The pictures turn out grainy, as usual. But a couple of them have just the tiniest bit of clarity enough to show violet dots in the vaguely ship-shaped blob of teal, raised on a tiny island in the middle of the ocean.

They sigh, and captchalogue their huskpalm aga- _GOD_ **_DAMMIT,_ ** _FUCKING MIRACLE MODUS._

They watch in disbelief as a can of soda goes _rocketing_ off into the distance, shooting out to the horizon with a frankly ridiculous amount of modus-propelled firepower.

God. Fucking. _Dammit._

Gamzee checks their sylladex, and, yep. There’s more than one _perfectly empty card_ in there, which means there is _absolutely NO_ excuse for the soda to be ejecting itself from their sylladex like the pocket space is on fire. But of course, their damned modus doesn’t give a shit. Because it’s an absolute bastard like that.

Gamzee grumbles out a sigh. The reminder that they have drinks on them makes them kind of thirsty, so they begrudgingly decide to attempt to pull one out of their sylladex. They have another two sodas in there, though it’s not their favorite - they try the Faygo, this time. Worst comes to worst, they can always just manually pull the last one out of the card, which happens to be the _only_ reliable way of removing items from their sylladex. It’s slower, but tried and true as a far less risky option (though complete lack of risk cannot be guaranteed), which is why that’s the only method they use to decaptchalogue valuable items like their husktop or palmhusk.

Alright. Let’s do this.

The plastic bottle of soda flings out of their sylladex and out to sea faster than they could say ‘fuck’. _Failure._

Gamzee slaps their face into the palm of their hand. They don’t know what they expected.

“Fuck this. Manual it is,” they grouse, and proceed to literally pull out the last soda from their sylladex by hand.

Except, since their sylladex is apparently being _extra_ bitchy today, _that_ causes some kind of incomprehensible chain reaction that makes their sylladex go _crazy_ with item-shuffling and strobe lights and ejects one of their fucking horns into the horizon.

They stare, holding a can of appleberry fizz in their hand, as the little rubber ball horn swiftly soars after the other two sodas to a destination unknown.

They want to scream. This is _fucking ridiculous._

Oh, wait. This is _Alternia,_ no one’s going to stop them from screeching their little heart out.

“...God. FUCKING. _DAMMIIIIIIIIIIT!!!_ ”

* * *

Your name is Eridan Ampora. It is six in the fucking evening, and you are drenched in soda and _fucking pissed._

It is too early for this shit. It is _way_ too early for this fucking bullshit. You _just_ woke up not fifteen goddamn minutes ago and went outside to get a breath of fresh air, only to get _clobbered_ by a can of fucking _soda_ that exploded on impact, and watch in disbelief as the same happens when a plastic bottle of the stuff crashes into the front of your hive and a _horn_ of all things breaks a window flying _into_ your hive.

You stare. Look at the mangled remains of the soda can where it lies in the sand after bouncing off your shoulder. Take note of the cracked dent in your hive where the soda bottle exploded its sugary brown contents all over the place. Remember that the broken window just so happens to be the _library_ window, which means there’s glass in the rug and all over the fucking place and you’re going to have to clean that up later so you don’t cut your feet on the shit when you go in. Your clothes are getting tacky with warm soda _and you just showered dammit, you haven’t even been wearing them for five minutes._

Oh, no. This isn’t going to fucking fly. You are going to _cull_ the bastard that thought it was a great idea to ruin your evening like this _and wreck your damn hive_ at this _ungodly_ hour of the evening. Fef’s lusus is going to need feeding tonight, anyways. No one says you can’t get started early.

Your lusus has no objections to this. So you quickly equip Ahab’s Crosshairs, mount Skyhorsedad’s saddle and get going in the direction the accursed soda containers came from. If you recall correctly, the shoreline is only a few miles from here.

* * *

Gamzee is just minding their own business, sitting in the sand with an unopened soda at their side and head in their hands, when a loud yell pierces through the quiet early evening.

“HEY, YOU!”

Gamzee groans quietly into their palms, fingers still splayed across their currently unpainted face. Why. There is a person. They don’t really feel like dealing with live, flesh-and-blood people at the moment. It didn’t go very well the last time they tried.

A loud, low-pitched set of aggressive clicks, and then; “HEY! LAND BITCH! DON’T IGNORE ME!”

They sigh heavily, then raise their head, peeking out of their fingers.

It’s a kid. Their age. On a large seahorse lusus. Er, _skyhorse_ lusus.

He has a purple tuft of hair on top of his head and lightning bolt horns; ear fins, dark blue striped scarf, purple cape. It’s - flamboyant and kind of obnoxious, _objectively,_ but mostly Gamzee just thinks it’s cute, even with his angry expression. _Especially_ with his big, rounded glasses. And kinda cool.

Okay, this guy is _maybe_ excused. But only because he’s an adorable little shit. (On another note, this _has_ to be Eridan. They’re fairly sure the blue-scarf-and-purple-cape trademark is exclusive to him alone.)

They hide a quick grin behind their hands before dropping them and waving a little at the kid. “Hey. What’s up?”

The probably-Eridan seadweller - they can’t really see his shirt’s sign from this angle - scowls at them. “Don’t ‘hey’ me! You wwere the one wwho threww those fuckin’ sodas at my hivve, wweren’t you?!”

They blink, taking a split second to wonder what ‘hiwe’ means before it clicks. _Oh._ He _does_ look kind of wet. Like he got soda spilt all over him.

“Uh… oops.”

“ _Oops?!_ ” he yells, clearly annoyed if the loud, sharp clicks he keeps making are any indication. “You wwrecked my hivve, asshole!” The kid’s accent is interesting - kinda cute - but they don’t have time to think much more than that as a gun drops into Eridan’s hands and _oh fuck angry troll kid, hold up hold up!_

Gamzee quickly raises their hands placatingly, saying hurriedly, “Whoa, whoa! No need to get violent here, ‘twas an accident!”

“An _accident?!_ ” he snarls, with a short series of rapid clicks - multiple clicks seem to be associated with harsher, more vehement emotions, now that they think about it - but despite the blatant hostility and the cocked gun, he’s not moving, so it doesn’t seem like he’s going in for a strife just yet.

“Yep,” Gamzee confirms, mentally preparing to pull out their strife specibus if things go south. “My modus is pretty shit, so sometimes I get a lotta sylladex malfunctions ‘n stuff. Sorry ‘bout your hive, I can pay ya back or somethin’.”

After a few tense seconds, Eridan surprises them by lowering the gun slightly. Gamzee’s shoulders release a tiny bit of the tension they hadn’t known was there. Eridan still looks angry, but it’s more of an annoyed-angry now rather than furious. “Wwhat wwould a landdwweller like you havve ta offer me?” he says skeptically.

Ah. Ah, yes. Fantastic racism propaganda, they think. Of course, they can’t _say_ that, so instead they reply, “Dunno. Whatever you want; in the sense that I owe you a favor for this, and you can call it in when ya want.”

The tiny violetblood scrutinizes them carefully, thinking on it for a moment. Gamzee just stays as they are, sitting in the sand with their hands held up by either side of their head, a can of appleberry fizz soda sitting next to their knee.

“...Fine,” Eridan eventually agrees. “You owe me for lettin’ you go, this time.” His gun disappears, supposedly back into his strife specibus, and Gamzee exhales slightly in relief. They smile at the ( _still adorable_ ) little kid.

“Thanks, brother,” they say amicably, and _yep,_ they probably haven’t quite registered that this is _Eridan Ampora_ and he’s currently a deadly seven year-old who could probably snap their fingers like cheap chopsticks with little hesitation.

“I’ll come back an’ let you knoww wwhen I call in that favvor,” he says, and turns his lusus around to leave.

“Whoa, whoa, wait a motherfuckin’ second!”

He stops. Eridan glares back at them. “ _Wwhat?_ ”

“Wouldn’t it be faster if ya had my Trollian handle?”

He stares at them. They stare back.

Gamzee is guessing he probably didn’t think of that, and is regretting it at the current moment.

“...Wwell, wwhat is it?”

“‘terminallyCascading’. An’ yours, brother?”

He huffs. “‘caligulasAquarium’. You can spell that, right?”

Gamzee nods, and without another word, Eridan takes off, zipping over the sea and to where his hive supposedly lies. They watch as he goes.

After the figure of he and his lusus disappears into the darkening horizon, the beach is quiet, as if the little seadweller had never been here in the first place.

“...Well. That solves the ‘Eridan’s hive’ theory,” Gamzee remarks to themself.

* * *

All that excitement doesn’t change the fact that Gamzee has a guest over. A guest who had woken up during all the commotion outside, and is sitting in their living room when they go back into the house. They look kinda fidgety. Gamzee can’t really blame them.

They don’t ask about what happened, so the purpleblood doesn’t offer anything. “I can get breakfast started up, if ya want,” they offer instead. “Then you can go back on your merry way home.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Piumma says quickly. “I can eat when me and my lusus get back home, don’t wanna trouble you and all.”

The younger troll shrugs. “I ain’t makin’ no breakfast if you aren’t stayin’ over to eat. So really, you’d be doin’ me a favor.”

Despite the undertone of nervousness, Piumma still gives them something of a Look™. “Skipping breakfast? At your age?”

Gamzee huffs out a laugh. “Laziness conquers all. Except hospitality. So?”

  
  


Piumma ends up staying for breakfast. Some of the pancakes (grubcakes, whichever) are a little burned, but it tastes decent, so it’s all good. They see Piumma and their lusus off soon after.

Two handles get added to their chumroll that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is kinda more of a breather chapter, aside from the fact that eridan gets a lil screen time here uwu
> 
> i was actually planning on having some kanaya time but eridan stole it all apparently lmao


	8. trolling is a fact of life sorry i didnt make the rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life goes on. There are pesterlogs to show it, because of course, these kids are practically superglued to their devices since that's the only way they get to talk to their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a lil pesterlog chapter uwu
> 
> feat: eridan getting PISSED at gamzee bc holy shit how oblivious _is_ this fucker  
> (*tip: just a lil bit. maybe. maybe a little more than a little bit. okay kind of a lot but to be fair they dont have much experience or confidence in romantic relationships of any sort)
> 
> it gets a lil heavy at the rant bit and idk i feel like its awkward putting it in there but i felt like it had to be addressed s o .

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] started trolling caligulasAquarium [CA] at 09:42 --

TC: hOnK :o)

TC: hEy, It JuSt So HaPpEnEd Ta MoThErFuCkIn OcCuR tO mE

TC: i NeVeR cAuGhT yOuR nAmE

CA: oh fuck off

CA: you dont need to knoww my name

TC: :o(

TC: nOt EvEn A lItTlE???

CA: no

TC: wElL tHaT sUcKs

CA: life sucks so boo hoo poor you

TC: mEh

TC: i’M gAmZeE mAkArA

CA: seriously do you not knoww wwhat “fuck off” means

TC: oH i KnOw WhAt It MeAnS

TC: i’M jUsT iGnOrInG iT, bEcAuSe YoU sEeM lIkE a CoOl MoThErFuCkEr To TaLk To :oD

CA: i

CA: wwell at least you seem to be awware of my significance, unlike SOME PEOPLE

TC: hEhEh

TC: oRpHaNeR fOr ThE hEiReSs, RiGhT?

CA: damn straight

CA: its a vvery important job

TC: i CaN iMaGiNe :o)

TC: sO hOw’S tHaT gOiN fOr YoU?

CA: its an honor to be tasked wwith the role a keepin glbgolyb fed

CA: evveryone wwould be dead wwithout a proper orphaner for the job

TC: mMhM

TC: yOu LiKe It?

CA: i mean

CA: i guess sure wwhy

TC: oH jUsT cUrIoUs

TC: nOt EvErY nIgHt Ya MeEt A sEaDwElLeR, mUcH lEsS aN aPpArEnTlY rEaLlY iMpOrTaNt, MiRaCuLoUs MoThErFuCkEr LiKe YoU :o)))

CA: ..........wwell

CA: thanks. i guess

TC: hOnK :o)

CA: youre not horrible, for a clowwn

CA: so.

CA: ill tell you my name.

CA: its eridan ampora

TC: :oD

CA: but do NOT make that face again cod

TC: :o( wHaT dOeS eVeRyBoDy HaVe AgAiNsT mY cLoWn FaCeS

TC: nO oNe LiKeS tHeM :o((((

CA: because they look fuckin dumb???

CA: dumber than your face is i mean

TC: eH

TC: ‘s My TrAdEmArK, i AiN’t GiViN iT uP

TC: HoNk :o)

CA: man thats lame as hell

TC: oH fUcK oFf

TC: aNyWaY, yOu HaVe A nIcE nAmE. iT’s GoT a NiCe RiNg To It :o)

CA: ...wwhy do ya keep complimentin me

TC: ???

TC: i’M nOt KiDdInG, iT *iS* a NiCe NaMe

CA: kfjgfkjflks

* * *

\-- rusticDynamics [RD] started trolling terminallyCascading [TC] at 00:16 --

RD: Heya, kid. How aRe you holding up?

TC: pIuMmA! :oD

TC: jUsT pEaChY

RD: You suRe abou+ +ha+ +his +ime?

TC: yEp

RD: Okay +hen, I’ll +ake youR woRd foR i+.

RD: Well, no+ +o pu+ a dampeR on youR mood, bu+ I found ou+ abou+ some +hings you migh+ wan+ +o know abou+ +he o+her nigh+.

TC: oH

TC: wElL, sHoOt. HiT mE wItH tHaT sHiT. yOu’Ve GoT mE aLl Up AnD cUrIoUs AbOuT iT nOw.

RD: Okay.

RD: So, heRe’s +he +hing…

* * *

\-- fireflyFatalism [FF] started trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 17:50 --

FF: fun fact!!!

FF: you, my dear good friend, are functinoally a limeblood!!!

FF: but cosmetically your blood is red!!!

FF: (really pretty red by the way uwu uwu uwu)

FF: so like!!!

FF: youre a red limeblood lmao!!!

FF: have a nive day!!!!!

FF: oh wait oops i emant night lmaooo

FF: anyways bye!!!!!!!

\-- fireflyFatalism [FF] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 17:52 --

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] started trolling fireflyFatalism [FF] at 20:01 --

CG: I’M A *WHAT*???

CG: HEY, GET THE FUCK BACK HERE!

CG: YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT KIND OF SHIT AND RUN OFF WITH NO PROPER EXPLANATION!!!

* * *

CA: STOP FLINGIN YOUR STUPID DISGUSTIN SODA CANS AT MY FUCKIN HIVVE COD FUCKIN DAMMIT

TC: tHeYrE eMpTy, ThOuGh!

TC: nO sOdA aLl OvEr YoU aNd YoUr HiVe :o)

CA: THAT’S NOT THE FUCKIN POINT YOU LANDLUBBIN JACKASS

CA: stop. litterin. around. my damn. hivve.

CA: is the concept that hard for your wwitless thinkpan to havve evven the tiniest grasp of?!

TC: aWwWwW bUt ItS sO fUn To WaTcH yOu RaGe LmAo

CA: I! DON’T! GIVVE! A NOOKLICKIN SHIT!!

TC: hEhEhEhEhEh ;o)))))

CA: i swwear to fuckin gog you are messin wwith me

TC: wElL dUh

CA: no i mean you keep fuckin flippin on me so much

TC: fLiPpInG???

CA: cod nevver mind

CA: look all im sayin is youre a fuckin horrible person for litterin the damn ocean, because things LIVVE there, includin an not limited to respectable seadwwellers like ME and innocent marine life mindin their owwn damn business

CA: an you should feel bad

CA: because youre trashin the poor fishies fuckin homes for no reason

TC: bUt YoU’rE aLwAyS tHeRe To ClEaN iT uP aNyWaYs

CA: FUCK YOU I AINT HERE TO BE YOUR GLUBBIN SEA FLOOR JANITOR YOU DAMN LANDFUCKER

TC: :o)

CA: fuck. you.

TC: nO tHaNkS nOt InTeReStEd

CA: AAUUHGFDJHKJSSKFJ

* * *

TA: you know way two much, you know that?

FF: oh yeah im aware

FF: but hey like ive said before

FF: not my fault!

TA: that iis a 2tupiid excuse and you 2hould feel bad for even thiinkiing of iit iin the fiir2t place.

FF: yeah yeah whatevs

TA: 2o you really thiink the world ii2 goiing two end at the hand2 of a 2torm of meteor2?

FF: oh, i don’t think so. i KNOW so.

FF: your Doom voices probably won’t be arguing with me on that.

TA: and that.

TA: ii don’t ju2t tell anyone about that part of my psiioniic2, and yet you are aware that ii can hear the entiire planet 2creamiing at me iince22antly about everyone’2 iimiinent death2.

FF: yeah. that.

FF: yeah sorry abt that dude u rly got the short end of the stick there :/

TA: that2 a fuckiing under2tatement.

* * *

CG: AND THEN HE FUCKING CONFESSES TO HER *PALE,* EVEN THOUGH **CLEARLY** SHE’S BEEN MAKING PITCH ADVANCES ON HIM FOR HALF THE MOVIE AND OBVIOUSLY ISN’T FUCKING INTERESTED IN A CONCILIATORY RELATIONSHIP, MUCH LESS **RED!** AND MEANWHILE THE *ACTUAL* PALE POTENTIAL BETWEEN GRACIA AND ALLANN IS COMPLETELY IGNORED AND OF COURSE ALLANN GETS FUCKING HEARTBROKEN BY PERENE’S REJECTION AND EVERYTHING GOES DOWNHILL FROM THERE.

CG: AND DON’T EVEN GET ME *STARTED* ON THE UNRESOLVED ASHEN AFFECTIONS BETWEEN PERENE, ALLANN AND LAPASI!!!

TC: wOw

TC: tHaT sUrE iS a MeSs

CG: RIGHT?!?!

CG: BLUH, THIS IS JUST BAD WRITING AT THIS POINT. I HATE IT, BECAUSE THESE CHARACTERS HAVE SO MUCH POTENTIAL AND YET NO ONE EVER THOUGHT TO EXPLOIT IT!

TC: yEaH sUrE sOuNdS lIkE iT

TC: iL’l HaVe To WaTcH tHaT lAtEr AnD sEe If It’S rEaLlY tHaT bAd

CG: DO IT.

CG: I WILL GLADLY ACCEPT- NO, I *INVITE* ANY AND ALL COMPLAINTS YOU HAVE ABOUT THAT BULGE-ROTTING MESS.

CG: THEY’RE ALL SO DUMB. *ALL* OF THEM.

TC: hEy ThAt’S jUsT lIfE iN gEnErAl

CG: ...I HATE THAT YOU’RE NOT WRONG.

* * *

CA: an i keep black flirtin wwith him but its like he doesnt evven fuckin notice

CC: Maybe )(e’s just not interested. You DID say )(e tried to reconc)(ile wit)( you after )(e accidentally damaged your )(ive t)(at first time!

CA: no fef you dont get it this idiot is completely glubbin blind like holy shit

CA: i literally throww pitch suggestions into his face an sometimes he actually takes the initiativve and flirts back

CA: like bein a sarcastic, sassy, passivve-aggressivve little shit an CONTINUIN TO FLING HIS CRAPPY LITTER AT MY HIVVE EVVERY NIGHT

CA: but just as i start thinkin he might be finally gettin the hint the fucker goes an says somethin that says he thinks its all hatefriendly or platonic, or evven wworse, he says somethin NICE to me

CA: he fuckin black flirts back wwith me, fef. hes not evven properly rejectin me, he just doesnt notice it at all

CC: Wow, t)(at IS weird.

CC: If )(e serifis)(ly )(asn’t noticed yet, t)(en you R-E-ELY )(ooked onto a dense one, ---Erifis)(!!

CA: god trust me i knoww

CC: You s)(ould try being more upfront wit)( )(im about it! If you say it to )(is face, t)(ere’s no way )(e’ll be able to mistake your intentions.

CA: ughhh, no. thats stupid and it wwould nevver wwork anywways

CC: ------ERIFIS)(!!! You can’t say t)(at if you )(aven’t even TRI-ED it yet!!!

CA: nope not gonna wwork

CC: 38\\\\\

CA: oh shut up

* * *

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] started trolling fireflyFatalism [FF] at 10:52 --

TC: alright. so this is stupid as all motherfuck but dammit i need to fucking admit this *somewhere* or its going to eat at me so here we fuckin are ig haha

TC: alright so

TC: guh this is so stupid IM so stupid

TC: i

TC: i tried the sopor

TC: i mean fuck i was always gonna have to eventually so why not start now

TC: that shit the kidnapper- his name was arlien, wasn’t it? - drugged me with was concentrated sopor. piumma said so, they confirmed it. wanted to warn me about the possible side effects and shit

TC: it was a small dose so it didnt last long, but damn it was motherfuckin strong. I was *stoned* and the only reason i couldnt tell was because of the stress of the situation and shit and by the time i was in a mindset to notice it was wearin off already

TC: though it made me high as hell again when i hopped into the recuperacoon until the shit wore off entirely

TC: i, i just

TC: i tried it again

TC: and

TC: it was good.

TC: it was *great,* actually.

TC: felt like i was floating on a cloud, cliche as it is, and

TC: gods the only reason i didnt keep going was because i didnt have any more bottled sopor saved up

TC: just the one

TC: and that *one* made me loopy as hell

TC: i can barely remember what happened during the high like what the shit

TC: i liked it

TC: i liked it a lot and im *scared* because what if i actually do get addicted to it and-

TC: ...hahahah who am i fucking kidding

TC: i shoudlnt even be worrying about this

TC: gamzee was fucking STONED in canon, if anything i should be eating *more* sopor.

TC: im so far off canon it isnt even funny im

TC: hahahahahaha*hahahahaha h fuc k*

TC: FCUK ALL THIS SHIT.

TC: FUCK IT I HATE THIS GODS

TC: hhhhhhghfjhgshj

TC: fuck this. fuck all this fuck you fuck lord english FUCK LORD ENGLISH FUCK PARADOX SPACE

TC: ghhhhhgfkhjfk i just want to live my life is that too much to ask

TC: of course its too much to ask who am i motherfuckin kidding

TC: i had my chance at life and i guess i somehow went and motherfuckin wasted it somehow and this is my punishment for that

TC: i cant even remember how i died, how fucked up is that?

TC: maybe i didnt motehrfuckin die but why the fuck else would i be here if ididnt

TC: ...this is fuckin stupid im too tired to think straight i shoudl go to fuckin coon

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] ceased trolling fireflyFatalism [FF] at 11:04 --

* * *

\-- fireflyFatalism [FF] started trolling caligulasAquarium [CA] at 00:21 --

FF: heheheh :)

CA: wwho are you and howw the fuck did you get this handle

FF: oh shush dw abt that

FF: hi! im firefly. you might hear from me occasionally, dw abt any ultimate motives or whatever the shit bc i dont have them. i just wanna talk sometimes

CA: uh huh sure that totally makes sense

FF: really!

CA: givve me one good reason wwhy i shouldnt block you right noww

FF: .....uhhhhhhh. idk man bc,,, shoot i cant come up with one :/ but eh thats okay you can block me i guess

CA: right

CA: okay wwhatevver

\-- caligulasAquarium [CA] blocked fireflyFatalism [FF] \--

FF: rip okay yeah i shoulda expected that

\-- caligulasAquarium [CA] did not receive message from fireflyFatalism [FF] \--

FF: oh well. guess i can try talking to feferi instead!

\-- caligulasAquarium [CA] did not receive message from fireflyFatalism [FF] \--

* * *

\-- fireflyFatalism [FF] started trolling cuttlefishCuller [CC] at 00:30 --

FF: hello! feferi, right?

CC: )(ello!! Yes, t)(at is me! )(ow did you get t)(is )(andle?

FF: man why is that the question literally everyone asks when i first message them

FF: well i mean cant hurt to tell you i guess!

FF: i know your handle because you are one of twelve people that will become very important later on! like really important. fate-of-the-universe kind of important.

CC: O)(, reely?

FF: really!

FF: but thats not the important part rly

FF: i was just interested in talking to you all, thats all!

CC: )(MMM. T)(at sounds about accurate, actually!

CC: I’m not so s)(ore about being INVOLV-ED in important, UNIV-ERS-E-C)(ANGING t)(ings, but my dear lusus )(as been glubbing about somet)(ing to a similar effect )(appening for a w)(ile!

FF: yeah like. its abt the world ending and shit right

CC: Y-EA)(!! 380 )(OW DID YOU KNOW???

FF: eh, i have some sources.

FF: but enough about the end of the world, its coming whether we want it to or not :P

CC: It’s rat)(er unfortunate, but yes, I guess so.

FF: yeah

CC: )(ey, you know my name, but I don’t know yours! So, w)(at’s your name?

FF: oh wAIT ur right i havent introduced myself yet!!! yeah i should get to that

FF: hi! call me firefly. its nice to meet you, feferi!

CC: Nice to glub wit)( you, too!! 38D

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i. i was actually joking when i mentioned that gamzee <3< eridan in the romance of the gods book from chapter 4 but this fic continues to surprise me
> 
> (thanks to Срез for the idea uwu)


	9. uh oh™

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pacing who is they??? dont know em sorry ull have to introduce me sometime

They blink at the girl.

The girl blinks back at them.

Golden light shines through the window and crosses her face, highlighting the somewhat paler than average skin of the troll child standing before them. 

Gamzee, admittedly, hadn’t really expected anyone to be waking up on Prospit. They probably _should_ have, but they kind of just… completely forgot about it. It had always been quiet in the Prospit towers.

They’d gotten pretty used to seeing everyone asleep, but that was not the case this morning.

“...So,” Gamzee says finally. “You’re new here?”

Kanaya’s surprised expression shifts into a smile, small and sweet. “I guess so. Would you mind if I asked you to show me around?”

Gamzee grins at her lazily. “Sure, why the motherfuck not?”

* * *

Apparently, it’s currently night for Kanaya back on Alternia, whereas for Gamzee the sun had just come up half an hour before they went to ‘coon. Which means she’s actually pretty damn far from where Gamzee lives - almost halfway around Alternia, really.

Kanaya is nice. They take her on a quick swing around the others’ towers first, pointing out the ones they’re in contact with on Alternia - which is just Karkat and Sollux, actually. Kanaya surprises them by correctly identifying Vriska and Terezi, confirming that she’s pityfriends with the Scourge Sisters.

Gamzee shows her where the royal Prospitian library is, explaining that no one really minds if they borrow some books for a little while. Kanaya gets introduced to a few Prospitians they know well - naturally, the library hand that often likes to stop Gamzee for a chat is one of them.

She’s a pleasurable person to be around, and she doesn’t complain when sometimes they slow down for a little longer than necessary to stare at the blue of Skaia. She does ask, though; Kanaya is a diurnal person, unlike the vast majority of Alternian trolls, so the concept of being unable to appreciate the daytime sky is foreign to her.

At the end of the day, they both had a nice time hanging out, and Gamzee gets another handle to add to their chumproll.

* * *

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] started trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA] at 19:52 --

TC: hEy, KaNsIs!!!

TC: :o) hOnK

GA: Oh

GA: You Are Gamzee Correct

TC: yEp

GA: So

GA: That Was Not Just An Elaborate Dream Then

TC: nNnNnNoPe!

GA: Wow

GA: This Is Rather Surreal I Must Admit

TC: tHeMs ThE bReAkS

TC: wElCoMe To ThE pRoSpIt DrEaMeRs ClUb, SiStEr! CoNsCiOuS pOpUlAtIoN: tWo.

GA: Ha Ha

GA: It Is Nice To Meet You Gamzee

TC: yOu As WeLl, KaNsIs :o)

* * *

They’re not sure if this is just them, since they’ve been holed up in their room or on their computer a lot recently, but… Gamzee hasn’t seen Goatdad around much, as of late.

It’s probably nothing. They still see him every day at lunch, when they both eat together. It’s not like either of them are _avoiding_ each other. And yet, despite that - they can’t help but _doubt._

It’s not like Goatdad eventually leaving is news to them. The original Gamzee couldn’t make him stay, so why would they be enough either? And besides, he’s… going to die anyways, come the start of the game. It might even be better this way. Less hurt, and all.

(The thought of it _already_ hurts.)

They try not to think about it, but Gamzee ends up keeping an eye out for their lusus whenever they remember.

* * *

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] started trolling caligulasAquarium [CA] at 21:11 --

TC: ;o)

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] ceased trolling caligulasAquarium [CA] at 21:11 --

\-- caligulasAquarium [CA] started trolling terminallyCascading [TC] at 21:12 --

CA: ????

CA: gam seriously wwhy do you do shit like this all the time

CA: its kinda wwrigglerish

TC: hEhEhEh

TC: dOeSn’T mAtTeR, iT’s JuSt FuN :o)

CA: sigh

CA: you really are dense, you knoww that

TC: i MeAn SuRe

CA: see this is wwhat i mean

TC: *sHrUg*

CA: siiiiiigh

* * *

So.

The whole sopor situation.

Yeah, that.

On one hand, they _really_ don’t like the effects it has on their brain. The patchy memory, the dulling of their thoughts. The fact that once they start, they _keep wanting more_ \- keep wanting the high of not thinking, the ability to allow everything to be so _simple_ as just an inexplicable, enveloping contentment - and the withdrawal from sobering up is _not_ great.

They _would_ make themself stop, if this was a typical situation. They would gladly never touch the damn slime again other than to sleep; they’d even confess to their friends if it would keep a few extra pairs of eyes on them to stop them from going back. But, well… on the other hand - and really, this is the sadly most important factor - they _can’t_ stop.

They _have_ to keep going. Gamzee really should have started earlier, to be honest. They’re ~~only~~ already eight - three and a half sweeps and six more months - and they’re almost certain that in canon, stoned Gamzee was the _only_ Gamzee the others knew. And that’s how it should have been. Should be. They don’t know how they might change things if they’re _not_ and fuck, they’ve probably already changed shit, haven’t they?

They need to go back. Backtrack. Take a step back and fucking _look_ at this shit.

They need to make the timeline stick as close to the canon Alpha as possible. Anything overly divergent is _guaranteed_ to Doom this timeline.

(Fuck, this timeline is probably already Doomed by default, just by the factor of their _existence;_ but _hell_ if they’re not going to _try_ to save it.)

Right. Make things more like canon. They can do that.

Gamzee eyes the sopor in one of the reused soda bottles they’ve been saving up in simultaneous distaste and longing. Bottled, because they can’t just scoop the used stuff out of their recuperacoon and eat it straight, after all; that’s downright _unsanitary._ The bottled sopor slime came from their recuperacoon _after_ careful inspection to make sure it had filtered out all of the gross stuff that came from sleeping in it for hours on end. If they’re going to be a stoner, they’re at least not going to hop themself up on _contaminated_ drugs.

They sigh, preparing themself for the not-so-stellar taste of the sopor. The high is great, yeah, especially with the strength of their high-grade sopor, but it doesn’t do much for their palate; all bitter and sour, and with the texture of fast-melting jelly once in their mouth.

...They wonder how it would taste baked. That was a thing, right?

Hesitation is something they have in spades. But, on the other hand… plot. Canon Alpha timeline. Risk of Dooming everyone they know and love in this timeline, and all that jazz.

Gamzee proceeds to search their kitchen for pie tins.

( _In the end, you are living on borrowed time; you had yours already. This is just extra. Don’t kill everyone by trying to make it yours._ )

* * *

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] started trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 16:03 --

TC: so liek,, what r ur opinoins on the ashen quadrant???

TC: jsut yknow,,, curious. just bc uwu

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] is idle! --

TC: ....oh wait oh fUcK

TC: oH. wHoOpS. hEcK.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] is idle! --

TC: fOrGeT i MoTeHrFuCkIn AsKeD sOlBrO bYe.

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 16:04 --

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] started trolling terminallyCascading [TC] at 16:06 --

TA: why are you me22agiing me at a22 o clock iin the afternoon, ii 2wear two-

TA: ...TC what the actual fuck.

TA: ii have 2o many que2tiion2.

TA: TC.

TA: TC ii can 2ee you onliine, get your 2tupiid purple a22 down here.

TA: you woke me up at 6 iin the eveniing, you at lea2t owe me 2ome fuckiing an2wer2.

TA: TC.

TA: TC!!!!

TC: yEaH?

TA: fuckiing fiinally.

TC: hI

TA: good eveniing two you two, a22hole.

TC: :oP sOrRy?

TA: fuck you, try agaiin AFTER you tell me what the fuck ii2 up with that me22 up there.

TC: hMmMmMmM

TC: i WaS tIrEd

TA: 2omehow ii feel liike that ii2 complete and utter bull2hiit.

TC: nAaAaaAaAh bRo iTs ToTalLy TruE

TC: feElIn ReAlLY FUcKiN SlEePy AlL uP iN hErE

TA: whatever. fiine. let’2 2ay you were really tiired.

TC: :o(

TA: 2tiill, your quiirk fuckiing 2LIIPED.

TA: the la2t tiime that happened, you were hiigh on 2oporiifiic2.

TA: and iit wa2n’t a2 bad a2 THAT.

TA: you ju2t completely forgot two u2e your quiirk thii2 tiime. how out of iit are you???

TC: eH

TA: ...

TC: *sHrUg*

TA: TC.

TA: you me22aged me at 6. IIN. THE. EVENIING. AND WOKE ME UP.

TA: TWO A2K ME ABOUT MY OPIINIION2 ON THE A2HEN QUADRANT, OF ALL THIING2.

TC: yEah SoRrY bOuT tHaT :oPPPP

TA: AND.

TA: you. called. me. 2OLBRO.

TA: ii never gave you my fuckiing name.

TA: ii never gave *TC* my fuckiing name.

TC: ..................

TC: uH oH.

TA: who the fuck are you?

TC: wElL ThaTs A cOmPliCaTeD QuEsTIoN, mY iNvErTebRoTHer

TA: and that2 another thiing; you’ve been me22iing up your quiirk 2iince the 2tart of thii2 conver2atiion.

TA: or, not YOUR quiirk, ii2 iit?

TC: ??? oF cOurSe ItS MY QuIRk?? wHoSe ElsE wOuLd It Be??

TA: you’re not TC.

TC: .... Do: bUt I Am!!

TA: how much do you want two bet on that? becau2e ii’m pretty fuckiing 2ure you’re not TC.

TA: ii’ll have you know ii can hack iintwo your hu2ktop and ruiin EVERYTHIING you fuckiing have on there, ea2y a2 hu2kloaf.

TA: 2o iif you don’t an2wer me RIIGHT NOW, ii am goiing two do exactly that, and doxx you, two.

TA: who. the fuck. are you.

TC: lOoK, tA, I cAn ExPlaIn.

TC: i *Am* Tc!!!

TA: uh huh 2ure.

TA: you’ve got ten 2econd2 two 2piit out the truth before ii hack you 2o hard you’ll be feeliing iit PERIIGEE2 from now.

TA: ten.

TA: niine.

TA: eiight.

TA: 2even.

TC: okay okay look hyst wait a hot damns econd

TA: 2iix.

TA: fiive.

TA: four.

TA: three.

TC: wai wait wait ughjfhgsk fucking-

TC: chill

TC: please

TC: loo, ya recognize this color, right???

TC: *look

TC: thats me. im firelfyy. thats why my quirk slipepd

TC: bc thi sis my real quirk

TC: the other one is made up and ingr....i cant remember the word... memorized into a like. secondary quirk.

TC: pls dont blcok me

TC: ur one of my only firends

TA: ..........

TA: you’re FF.

TC: ye

TA: but you’re al2o TC?

TC: ye

TC: tc is me i am tc, etc etc. i made both of those accst at the same time thyev existedd abt as long as the ohter

TA: ii’m not 2ure ii beliieve you.

TC: aw motherfuk :(

TC: how cani convince u

TC: ill do anything

TC: just

TC: dont block me? please?

TA: ...

TA: a22umiing you are TC, you’ve done a couple of viideo call2 wiith CG already.

TA: get on the board and viideo call both of u2. ii’ll beliieve you iif CG confiirm2 iit’2 you.

TC: :DDDD

TC: okiiii

TC: oh yeha right uh the firelfy thing is supposed ta eb a secret,,,

TC: so,,,, could u,,, not tell,,?

TA: IIF he 2ay2 iit’2 you.

TA: then fiine. but you owe me an explanatiion for thii2 2hiit.

TC: kaaay

TA: but fiir2t. why do you 2ound liike you’re jacked up hiigher than the Empre22’ ego?

TC: ............. heheheh whoops

TC: see u in the memo :)

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] ceased trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 16:32 --

TA: ......

TA: fiine. we’ll fiind out on the viideo chat, eiither way.

\-- twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling terminallyCascading [TC] at 16:32 --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hc: rainbow drinkers have a somewhat lighter than average skin tone. this is uncommon, but not super rare, and trolls' skin color gets darker as they age after they become adults; so theyre just thought to be younger than they actually are, usually.
> 
> admittedly, gamzee's choices are likely going to start making less and less sense to the rational mind as things go on. they've pretty much accepted they're going to die either way, so they're doing convoluted pirouettes around canon to try to make sure their timeline isn't Doomed.
> 
> they're pretty much making disconnected calculations of what theyll have to do in their head; it seems logical in the bits and pieces theyre reasoning it out in, but if you took all of those conclusions, laid them out and tried to neatly put them all together, there would definitely be conflicting parts.  
> so again; their logic isn't exactly going to make sense and it'll be twisted around to hell, but it makes sense in their head if they don't lay it all out flat on the table - chronological order and cause and effect and shit and all - to sort it out. which they haven't been doing, like a dumbass - because they are entirely enabled by them, themself and oh did i mention their own biased self, and have no outside opinion to keep them from considering and doing stupid things. so.


	10. everything has consequences; it’s just a matter of how much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> helloooooo eridan character tag. when did you get here? i swear you werent supposed to have this much significance in this story??? or at least, not in THIS way???????? i mean like seriously he blocked firefly thats like super contradictory to the original plan lmao
> 
> sneaky little shit. guess hes here to stay now

Your name is Sollux Captor, and somehow, you have convinced your perpetually grumpy and _definitely_ -not-an-evening-person friend CG to join you and your-mutual-friend-who-might-not-actually-be-your-friend onto a video call at almost five in the evening.

Supposedly-TC lets out a chirpy fit of giggles as CG _finally_ enters the video chat, looking extremely disheveled and grumpy. There’s still traces of sopor sticking to his lightly-dripping, wet hair - he was obviously in a hurry to rinse off before making himself decent, and he does _not_ look happy about it.

“Hey, CG,” you say, grinning lazily, and TC continues to giggle his ass off, though it’s starting to die down a bit.

“What the fuck’s so funny, you taintmunching fuck?!” CG snaps, and TC starts cackling anew, breathless from mirth. You can’t help but grin, too; it’s like watching an angry little purrbeast. CG’s positively _tiny_ horns aren’t helping his case. (Well, yours aren’t much bigger, but they’re pointy, and you have twice as many as CG so _hah._ )

“N-nothin’, Karbro, absolutely nothin’,” TC wheezes out, wiping the tears from his eyes. The muted daylight in TC’s room and ridiculously high quality of his husktop camera (his _husktop camera!_ Those are usually absolute fucking _shit_ ) allows the purple tint of his tears to be seen, and you note that as a point to the ‘probably TC’ column. Though it’s kind of pointless now, since CG isn’t freaking the fuck out or anything at TC’s appearance, somewhat smudged white clown paint and all. “Oh, uh, shit, heheheh, whoopsies. Said your name.” Yeah, you noticed _that,_ too, though you highly doubt CG’s actual name is _Karbro._ A nickname, probably.

“Yeah, yeah, what-the-fuck-ever,” CG says, waving it off with a scowl. “Doesn’t really fucking matter at this point, does it? We’ve known TA for nearly two sweeps.” You give a little “eheheh” at that - _two_ sweeps, eheheheheh - and the nubby-horned troll groans, which goes to show how well he knows you. “Oh, shut your fucking protein chute, we don’t need to hear about your weird fetish with twos again! Bluh, gog, has it really been that fucking long?”

“‘Bout that, yeah,” TC says, grinning way too widely for this hour of the afternoon.

“Have I really had to deal with you two pain in the aththeth for about two thweepth? Yeth. Yeth, I have,” you confirm in kind.

“Holy shit you really _do_ have a lisp,” CG says, eyebrows shooting up, and you glare at him. He snorts. “Right. Might as well go and make this shit fucking official, then. Karkat Vantas,” he says suddenly, and it’s obviously directed towards you. “That clownassed idiot over there-” He jerks his head to where TC’s face presumably is on his screen. “-is Gamzee Makara.”

“Rightey-o,” TC - _Gamzee_ \- chirps happily, giving a few more chuckles. He’s _really_ giggly. Like you said before; he sounds like he’s _high_ as hell. Looks it too, now that you mention it; his eyes are lidded heavily - though that might just be general drowsiness due to the ridiculous hour - and he has the spacey kind of _look_ you’ve seen on druggies around the city you live in. That… doesn’t speak well for your friend.

“Thollux Captor,” you offer, to close the introduction circle, and maybe get your mind off that unsettling thought. “By the way, KK, are your hornth _really_ that nubby?”

He makes a strangled sort of gasp that comes off vaguely as ‘extremely offended’. This sends Gamzee into another wheezing fit, ducking his head and leaving only part of his tall horns and the back of his shaking, unruly head of hair in the frame.

“First of all go _fuck yourself,_ Captor, and second of all, how the _nooklicking FUCK_ is it that _BOTH_ of you are immediately able to come up with horrifyingly, pan-rottingly _stupid nicknames_ for me the literal second you learn my name?!” Karkat complains, and you can’t help but laugh right along with your clown friend. “I hate you. I hate you both, fuck you!”

“No thanks,” you and GZ say at the same time, then both promptly fall back into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

“ANYWAYS,” Karkat says loudly, after the two of you have calmed down to quiet snickering, “why the everloving gogdamned _fuck_ did you two drag me onto this thrice-damned video call in the middle of the fucking day again in the first place? I recall you two being weirdly insistent about it.”

Uhhhh.

You hadn’t had an excuse lined up for this. You look at the screen, and somehow, seeing Gamzee doing the same, you feel as if your eyes are meeting through the camera in a collective ‘oh shit’ look.

Then, suddenly, GZ says “I’unno!” really fucking brightly, just grinning at the camera. With that same impossibly bright voice, high chirps punctuating his words and everything, he says, “Just thought it’d be a damn marvelous bitchtits fantastic idea, s’all!”

“AT _TWO THIRTY IN THE BULGE-FUCKING EVENING?!_ ”

The lankier troll winces slightly at the volume, but soldiers on with an only slightly less bright “Yep!” And, of course, an ensuing little chuckle.

Thankfully, KK seems to buy it, just giving a long-suffering sigh and glaring at the both of you. You shrug, and GZ just grins wider, if _that’s_ somehow possible.

Karkat narrows his eyes at the screen. “You’re really fucking giggly tonight.”

Then Gamzee _freezes_ for a split second - not quite like a deer in headlights, but more like a grub with their hand caught in the grubdisc jar. “Dunno whatcha talkin’ ‘bout, Karkles!”

He looks nervous, and the excited little chirps that have punctuated most of his sentences are completely gone. Talk about the _worst_ poker face you’ve ever seen.

“Gamzee.” The grin on the purpleblood’s face fades, seamlessly morphing into a neutral line. “You weren’t like this all the other times we video called, and we stayed up till seven in the fucking evening a couple of times. You’ve _never_ been this jittery.”

Gamzee blinks slowly at the camera, not answering. That’s telling, in and of itself.

“Gamzee,” KK says, with an accompanying low _chirrup_ of worry. “What’s happening?”

Gamzee doesn’t move, just averts his eyes to a spot away from the camera, and you… you almost feel like you’re _intruding_ on a private moment. You knew your friends had moments where they could get ridiculously pale - not just with each other, but with you, too - but seeing it, _hearing_ it happen… it’s different.

“Gamzee,” Karkat repeats, firmer, and the other sighs almost imperceptibly. Slowly, he lifts an arm to reach offscreen for something, makes a sort of twisty movement, and then-

You stare at the screen, disbelievingly.

Karkat, however, has obviously not got the memo, yet, because he merely furrows his brows and says questioningly, “Sopor?”

Gamzee just sits there, still and blank as a statue, holding up a finger with a green glob of sopor slime hanging off of it. If it weren’t for the minute twitches and movements of his eyes, flitting between two spots in front of him - you and Karkat - you’d almost say he was deliberately spacing out, trying to make himself into a real statue.

Then he _pops the slime into his fucking mouth._

“Wh- _Gamzee!_ ” Karkat hisses, clicking fast in startled surprise, and you simultaneously manage to get out a “TC what the _fuck_ ” before your other friend takes over with a quick string of expletives. “Spit that out _right now you grubfisting assmunching bulgelicker what the FUCK do you think you’re doi-_ ”

He swallows.

The nubby-horned troll stares, gaping speechlessly at Gamzee, and honestly, you can’t blame him. At any other time you’d tease KK about his sudden, uncharacteristic _lack_ of words, but right now _you’re_ feeling the exact fucking same way, staring in increasing incredulity at your mutual purpleblooded friend.

Who just as good as admitted to being a _sopor addict to your faces._

The three of you sit there in deafening silence for a moment. The mood has effectively been killed, and all of you are aware of it; each one afraid to be the first to speak.

Gamzee is the one who does; shrugging sadly, unable to look in even your general direction, nervously twining his fingers together. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I’m gonna go to sleep.”

This is when Karkat splutters back to life, forcing out a few unintelligible noises before blurting out, “Wait, _Gamzee,_ don’t you fucking dare-”

He does fucking dare.

You and Karkat are left staring at each other blankly. It’s just the two of you in the call, and- yep, TC, Gamzee, is offline.

“...That went fucking horribly,” you mutter, and Karkat sighs, letting out a mournful little chirp. He immediately looks contrite with himself at the involuntary noise, but you don’t comment on it as you normally would.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Yeah. I’ll… I’ll talk to him later. I guess.”

You nod. “Want to end the call?”

“...I think so.”

You hum. “...Well. It wath nithe theeing you, KK,” you offer awkwardly, hesitantly sprinkling a few more lighthearted chirps into your speech. Karkat, looking genuinely like an exhausted fucking mess, rubs his face tiredly, and makes an honestly sorry attempt at a half-hearted smile back.

“Thanks, Sollux,” he says, then hangs up.

  
  


This was not what you were expecting when you woke up to TC’s messages at four in the afternoon, your back aching from falling asleep hunched over at your husktop chair. But here you are, at approximately five seventeen, over an hour later; feeling like you somehow gained and lost something at the same time. (The ‘lost’ part of it is pretty significant.)

You completely forget about Gamzee’s promise to talk to you later, and it doesn’t come up again until well over a week after the fact.

* * *

Gamzee is avoiding Karkat and Sollux.

Usually, they would be practically inseparable from their husktop and palmhusk, but honestly… they just… don’t want to talk to them. Don’t want to have to confront the issue at hand, because they _know_ that in the end, it isn’t going to end happily for any of them.

Maybe they shouldn’t have been such a fucking dumbass and blatantly admitted to being a fucking _drug addict_ in front of both of them. They could have just avoided the goddamn question. They could have even hung up right then and there and it wouldn’t have turned out as badly as _this_ had.

But- gods, it always comes down to this, doesn’t it?

Not only was Gamzee high off their ass enough that the option of avoidance never even crossed their fucking mind, it’s practically a _requirement_ for the others to find out at some point. That’s the whole fucking _point_ of this, actually. To change their perspectives of Gamzee to something more like that of canon.

Better sooner than later, right? Hahahahaha. Ha. _Ha._

Ha.

...They hate this.

Even _Goatdad_ seems to be avoiding them now, like they’re ghosting Karkat and Sollux. He’d reprimanded them pretty harshly for getting themself high on sopor, in the beginning, but - they never listened. Because of course they couldn’t. So eventually, he just… stopped.

They guess he got tired of scolding them - or maybe he feels helpless, and doesn’t want to hang around his kid all day if all it’s going to do is remind him of how he failed to stop them, or something. Either way… he missed three days of feeding just in this past week.

Goatdad is definitely avoiding them. They can’t blame him, really.

……..Where were they?

Right. Trollian.

They’ve been avoiding Karkat and Sollux. The first day- _night,_ gods, night - they just never responded to their messages, reading them so they’d know what was being said and feeling horribly guilty about it all the while. Mostly, the two of them just said they wanted to talk. There was more than a little ranting about why the _fuck_ they would ever get it into their thinkpan that eating sopor was a good idea, _ever,_ but eventually, a lot of it devolved into just... _‘Please. Please, just talk to us.’_

They’d caved a little and sent _one_ message when Karkat asked them, in uncharacteristic lowercase letters, if they’re still friends.

(Their heart broke when they got that message. Sure, that’s a thing he does so often with Sollux it’s basically their thing, but- that’s with _Sollux._ And never in lowercase letters. Karkat _never_ breaks out of his quirk. What the fuck else were they supposed to do? _Let him think that they_ **_hated_ ** _him? For_ **_their_ ** _own choices?_ )

_Of course we are,_ they’d said. _I’m just not up to talking to either of you right now. I don’t hate you two._

Then they’d logged off of Trollian on their laptop and stopped reading any messages from Karkat and Sollux on their palmhusk.

Honestly, the only reason sleeping as long as humanly possible and hanging out in Prospit _doesn’t_ sound like a damn siren’s call compared to the temptation it already is, is Eridan. Miraculously, the side effects of the sopor don’t have any hold on their dreamself, and they can even talk to Kanaya on Propsit; but Eridan is a _Derse_ dreamer, nevermind the fact that as far as they know he isn’t even awake. He still comes around to visit their hive at least once or twice a week, and trolls them pretty often, if sporadically; it wouldn’t do to make him think Gamzee was avoiding him.

That’s who they’re with right now, actually; hanging out with Eridan, walking along the beach and absentmindedly sifting through the sand for interesting shells. They’re also kind of in low spirits and nursing several achy muscles from the sopor withdrawal, but they try to ignore that, since this is Eridan Time and not Feel Sorry For Yourself Time.

Eridan is pretty quick to call them out on their bullshit, though.

“You look fuckin’ shitty as hell,” is what he says exactly, and they can’t even find the willpower to strike up a witty comment back. They just scoff softly, kind-of-a-lot disappointed in themself, and say, “Yeah, I know.”

A sigh. “No, seriously. Ya look like crap - ‘cept after the crap’s hit the wwhirlin’ devvice and gotten itself all ovver the damn place.”

Gamzee rubs a hand into their face, feeling unreasonably tired. They _just_ woke up three damn hours ago, and they _know_ they got a good night’s damn sleep in. Not even any nightmares or any of that shit. Not that they can get that, anymore, what with Prospit. Unless shit does down on Prospit or something. “I _know,_ ” they half-growl out, involuntarily accenting the last word with a couple of instinctive low clicks. “I’ve been fuckin’ feelin’ it all week, no need to _remind_ me.”

“Feelin’ what?”

They want to plant their face into the sand and sleep forever and die. Guh. Talking is the _last_ thing Gamzee wants to be doing right now. “Feeling my fuckin’ _idiocy,_ is what,” they snap, unable to keep a high, agitated _click-click_ out of their voice, then feel the urge to faceplant into the sand and never get up intensify tenfold.

Unfortunately, since they’re busy staring distantly and longingly at the sand two feet in front of them, they can’t really gauge Eridan’s nonverbal reactions. Still, they’re pretty sure this is where he would be raising a stupid fishy eyebrow at them. “What, ya fucked up somethin’ recently?”

“Supremely.” Gamzee heaves a sigh, and plops their butt down onto the sand. Careful to keep any non-word-related expression out of their tone, they say, “Look. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

A few seconds of quiet pass, leaving just the distant sounds of the ocean. Then, they hear an exasperated sigh from Eridan, who proceeds to drop himself onto the sand next to Gamzee. A low _chirp_ they still aren’t sure the meaning of, and he grumbles, “Can’t even properly hate on you when ya look so pitiful.” They absently take note of the way his cape and scarf pool around on the sand, dark blue and purple. “Look. I ain’t your moirail, so don’t take this as anythin’- anythin’ _pale_ or some shit, but.” A low _chirrup;_ yet another cue they don’t know. “You sure as fuck _look_ like ya need ta talk about it.”

A bitter laugh falls past their lips. “No.”

There’s a quiet, indiscernible grumble from the seadweller. “Figured. First Kar, noww you - seriously, wwhat the fuck is up wwith all you people recently?”

But Gamzee doesn’t process much past the first part, because- “ _Kar,_ ” they repeat, a little fear starting to build up in their chest.

Eridan gives them a puzzled look. “Yeah? I have pityfriends, too, y’knoww. Not like I’m only good at hatin’ people or so-”

“ _Karkat,_ ” they murmur, suddenly unable to look their friend in the face. Anxiety roils in their gut and, and- they can’t. They can’t talk to Eridan about this.

“Wwhat? Howw did- you knoww Kar, too?”

Gamzee shifts to stand up. “I, I. I have to go,” they say numbly. Their hands feel clammy, and a bit of sand sticks to their palms as they push themself to their feet. Eridan knows Karkat. _Eridan knows Karkat,_ he’s- he’s basically a line to Karkat. “Sorry, I- thanks for hanging out, I’m-”

“Hey- wwait, Gam!” A hand closes around their ankle just as they’re starting to leave, and they immediately freeze. “Gam, wwhat the fuck,” Eridan says seriously. “You knoww Kar, don’tcha? There’s somethin’ goin’ on betwween both a ya, ain’t there. He’s been inconsolable all wweek, and _you’vve_ been actin’ fuckin’ wweird as fuck for the same time-”

“Let go,” Gamzee says, their voice coming out much quieter than they thought it would. Everything feels distant. “Please.” 

For a long moment, neither of them says anything, and neither of them moves - Gamzee avoids Eridan’s gaze, so they can’t tell what he’s thinking.

“...I knoww wwe’re hatefriends,” Eridan says finally, sounding a touch more vulnerable than they’ve ever known from him, “but I don’t believve in all that shit ‘bout it all bein’ just about hate. An’ wwe’vve got a wweird hatefriendship anywways, so - my point is.” He makes that chirruping noise again, which they _still_ can’t decipher. Why does troll language have to be so _complicated?_ “I wworry about you, too, y’knoww.”

The cool grip around their ankle disappears, and Gamzee pulls their foot back to themself. They work up the nerve glance back at Eridan, who still sits in the sand - expression unreadable, now.

They nod slightly at him, then make themself turn around to head back into their hive.

* * *

\-- caligulasAquarium [CA] started trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 13:12 --

CA: kar

CA: i think i knoww wwho your friend is


	11. trolling logs 2 the electric boogaloo, but more serious

GA: It Is Strange That The Two Of Us Have Often Been Asleep At The Same Time These Past Few Days

GA: Almost A Week To Be Specific

GA: Usually There Is At Least Some Lack Of Overlap In Our Sleeping Schedules

GA: But That Has Not Been The Case At All Recently

GA: Strange Is It Not

GA: Or A Happy Coincidence One Might Say

Gamzee’s eyes linger sleepily on Kanaya’s texts for a minute, reading through them slowly. Their fingers feel somewhat heavy as they clumsily type out a reply, not as used to the screen keypad of the palmhusk as opposed to their husktop’s keyboard.

TC: hEhEh YeAh

TC: :o)

GA: I Feel As If This Is Somehow Not As Much Of A Coincidence As It May Seem

TC: nAh KaNsIs, It’S tOtAlLY uNpLaNnEd On My EnD

TC: jUsT pUrE mIrAcLeS, sIsTeR! hOnK :o))))

GA: Miracles

TC: yEs

GA: I Cannot Help But Be Skeptical Of This Answer

TC: wElL dAmN, hAhA. wHy ShOuLd Ya Be?

GA: You Have Been More

GA: Subdued

GA: As Of Late

GA: Almost A Week

GA: Which Just So Happens To Coincide With The Time Period Of The Coincidence I Have Previously Stated

TC: hMmMm, Ya ThInK sO?

GA: Yes

GA: What I Mean To Say Is

GA: Is Everything Alright With You

GA: I May Be Completely Off The Mark But It Seems Like There May Be Something Wrong Which Is Causing You To Sleep More

GA: I Am Willing To Help You To The Best Of My Abilities If That Is The Case

GA: Or Even Just Lend An Ear To Your Problems

Aw. _Damn,_ she’s perceptive.

TC: wElL sHuCkS, tHaNkS fOr OfFeRiN, kAnSiS! bUt I’m GoOd.

TC: nO iSsUeS hErE :o)

GA: Well Alright

GA: If You Say So

GA: The Offer Is Still Open Though If You Should Ever Need To Take It

TC: tHaT’s SwEeT oF yOu

TC: bUt ReAlLy, DoN’t WoRrY aBoUt It

GA: Either Way

GA: It Is Still There If You Need It

GA: I Would Love To Converse With You More But It Is Currently Time To Feed My Lusus

TC: aW, rIgHt

TC: tAlK tO yOu LaTeR tHeN, kAnSiS

GA: Until We Speak Again

\-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased trolling terminallyCascading [TC] at 03:36 --

Gamzee sighs, and closes their Trollian tab of Kanaya’s messages. Unfortunately, she was actually right on the money. They _have_ been sleeping more to avoid dealing with their real life problems. It’s not as bad when there’s actually a place their consciousness goes to be awake when they sleep in their real body, but it’s still probably not the healthiest.

Oh well. It’s not like they’re sleeping a full twenty-four hours at a time or anything. Just about half the day, give or take a few hours, if they can.

They scroll through their chumproll, looking for any unread notifications (that aren’t from Karkat or Sollux). There’s a couple of blinking handles; ‘caligulasAquarium’ and ‘rusticDynamics’.

They blink in surprise at the second handle. It _has_ been a while since they’d talked, hasn’t it?

Piumma and Gamzee do chat, occasionally; they’re not especially close, but there’s a certain camaraderie that comes from escaping near-death via an angry Goatdad together. Even if Goatdad was really just trying to get rid of intruders and stopped as soon as Gamzee yelled at him.

And Piumma has _prime_ gossip on the going-ons in their neighborhood. It might not be _relevant_ to Gamzee in any way, shape or form, but boy is it fun to hear all about it.

Gamzee taps on Piumma’s handle.

\-- rusticDynamics [RD] started trolling terminallyCascading [TC] at 03:33 --

RD: Hey, kiddo. You fRee +o cha+?

TC: hEy :o)

RD: Oh. +heRe you aRe.

TC: yEp

TC: jUsT gOt OfF a ChAt WiTh A fRiEnD, wHaT’s Up?

RD: Oh, no+ much. Jus+ wan+ed +o ca+ch up. You’ve been pRe++y quie+ +he pas+ +wo weeks.

TC: oH :o( sOrRy bOuT tHaT, p-SiB. jUsT bEeN bUsY wItH oThEr ShIt ReCeNtLy

RD: Hey, I ge+ +ha+. You’Re cool.

RD: So wha+’s up?

TC: nOtHiN mUcH, rEaLlY.

RD: No+ even +ha+ “o+heR shi+”?

TC: oH

TC: wElL

TC: s’NoThIn YoU nEeD tO wOrRy YoUrSeLf AbOuT

RD: Ya suRe? No+hing wRong wi+h asking foR help if you need i+.

TC: sUrEr ThAn ThE sUn Is HoT

RD: Hah.

TC: :o)))

TC: jUsT sOmE pErSoNaL sHiT aNd StUfF, nOtHiNg BiG.

RD: AlRigh+, if you’Re suRe.

TC: hOw AbOuT yOu? WhAtChA bEeN uP tO rEcEnTlY?

RD: Oh, +heRe’s been a FUCK+ON of dRama going down Recen+ly.

TC: oH?? :o?

RD: Oh, yeah. RemembeR +ha+ fRiend I +old you abou+? He FINALLY woRked up +he fucking abdominal sausages +o confess +o Mellia.

TC: :o0

TC: oH, *dO* tElL

RD: Hell yeah. +he whole debacle was hells of convolu+ed in hindsigh+, but MAN if it wasn’+ hilaRious.

RD: So +he pooR idio+ go+ i+ in+o his head +ha+ in oRdeR +o win Mell oveR, he’d have +o cons+Ruc+ +his whole elaboRa+e +hing +o impRess him...

* * *

\-- rusticDynamics [RD] started trolling twinArmageddons [TA] at 05:17 --

RD: I +alked +o him. Hones+ly, he seemed fine, bu+ maybe he’s jus+ +ha+ good a+ faking i+. Jus+ men+ioned being busy dealing wi+h some peRsonal issues and shi+ foR +he pas+ couple of weeks.

RD: You’Re suRe abou+ wha+ you said?

TA: iif by that you mean “diid he actually have the nerve two eat 2opor riight iin front of your fuckiing face,” then ye2. ye2, he fuckiing diid.

RD: Holy shi+, wha+? SeRiously?

TA: you 2ee why ii’m concerned, now?

RD: Wow. +ha+... I did not expec+.

RD: Shi+. Maybe +he s+uff ARlien pumped in+o him was moRe effec+ive +han we +hough+.

TA: that’2 the douche that triied two grubnap GZ a whiile ago, riight?

RD: Yeah.

RD: Injec+ing such a high concen+Ra+ion of sopoR diRec+ly in+o +he vasculaR sys+em has possible adveRse effec+s. LingeRing cRavings foR +he s+uff is one of +hem. I+ can ge+ pRe++y bad if no+ +aken caRe of.

TA: well fuck.

RD: Yeahhhh.

RD: Fuck, i+ pRobably didn’+ help +ha+ he’s a kid. Less body mass +o spRead ou+ in.

RD: I’ll keep an eye on him. +Ry no+ +o s+Ress youRself ou+ woRRying +oo much.

TA: ii’ll 2top 2tre22iing out about thii2 once iit’2 all over.

RD: I+ migh+ no+ be +ha+ easy, kid.

TA: for all of our 2ake2, ii 2ure fuckiing hope you’re wrong.

* * *

It’s two in the morning when someone knocks on their door.

Gamzee, just coming down from the high of a quarter of a pie of baked sopor from a few hours ago, takes maybe two or three seconds to register that they should probably get up and answer it, instead of the typical five to ten it would be during a high. Setting down their pencil - they didn’t like how this sketch was turning out, anyways - they slide off their loungeplank and amble out of their respiteblock. They head downstairs, wondering who it could be.

They aren’t expecting the people they find when they open the front door.

“Hey, kid,” Piumma says, giving an apologetic sort of smile. Beside them stands Eridan; dwarfed by the teenager’s height even with their shorter, stocky body type, but grimly determined and clutching a tablet - huskpad, maybe? - in his hands.

“Oh.” Gamzee stares at the two of them for a couple of seconds. Either of them coming alone wouldn’t be _that_ much of a surprise - though Piumma showing up without so much as a word would be odd - but both of them _together?_ “Wasn’t really ‘specting you here. Ya need somethin’?”

Eridan glances down at the screen of his tablet, looking… _nervous?_ Then back up at Gamzee. His expression steels into something resolute, and he says, “Gam. I’m callin’ in that favvor a yours. Right noww.”

* * *

_Two nights earlier..._

\-- caligulasAquarium [CA] started trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 13:12 --

CA: kar

CA: i think i knoww wwho your friend is

CA: an hes really not doin so hot right noww let me tell you

CG: ...IS HIS NAME GAMZEE.

CA: yeah, gamzee makara

CA: small wworld isnt it

CA: i mean wwhat are the odds? my almost-kismesis bein your best friend, wwhos... started gettin addicted to sopor.

CA: guess thats wwhy he looked like fuckin shit

CA: fuck

CG: YEAH, REALLY FUCKING SMALL WORLD, I GET IT.

CG: *HE’S* YOUR PITCHCRUSH? SERIOUSLY? HOW- NO, NEVERMIND. THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT RIGHT NOW.

CG: HOW IS HE?

CA: like i said. not fuckin great

CA: looked like death wwarmed ovver, chewwed him out then spat him into the gristle grate

CA: didnt look high, though. didnt act it, either.

CG: THAT MIGHT BE WITHDRAWALS. THOUGH I DON’T DOUBT THE POSSIBILITY, I DON’T THINK HE’D BE GETTING HIGH EVERY HOUR OF THE NIGHT.

CG: ESPECIALLY IF HE’S STILL BOTHERING TO SEE YOU.

CA: im sorry kar i didnt knoww it wwas him

CG: SHUT UP, DON’T YOU APOLOGIZE TO ME!

CG: YOU’RE NOT THE ONE I WANT TO HEAR IT FROM.

CG: UGH. FUCK, SORRY. I’M SUCH A FUCKING ASS, I’M NOT THE ONLY ONE BETWEEN THE TWO OF US DEALING WITH THIS SHIT ANYMORE.

CA: it doesnt matter anywways

CA: hes probably gonna start ghostin me too noww

CG: WAIT, WHAT? WHY?

CG: WEREN’T YOU STILL ON SPEAKING TERMS YESTERNIGHT?

CA: i wwas, yeah. until an hour ago.

CA: noww im not so sure

CG: WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?

CA: wwell. dunno if i should tell you, to be honest wwith you

CG: OH DON’T YOU START BEING CAGEY NOW, AMPORA!

CA: oh fuckin fine

CA: this might hurt. dont say i didnt wwarn you

CG: JUST GET ON WITH IT ALREADY! IT CAN’T BE *THAT* BAD, FOR GOG’S SAKE!!

CA: kar

CA: its because i mentioned i kneww you

CA: like i just fuckin mentioned your name an, i dont knoww

CA: he looked scared when i realized he an you wwere friends

CA: an he just suddenly stood up an tried to leavve

CA: that wwas wwhat happened an hour ago

CA: ...kar? you still there?

CG: FUCK.

CG: HE HATES ME. HE REALLY HATES ME, DOESN’T HE?

CA: oh my fuckin gog kar do NOT start this noww

CG: YOU’RE NOT THE ONE WHO GAMZEE WANTS TO AVOID SO MUCH HE’S LITERALLY CUTTING OFF ALL HIS FRIENDS WHO KNOW ME JUST TO GET AWAY FROM ME!!

CA: kar, kan an i havve both FUCKIN TALKED TO YOU ABOUT THIS.

CA: HE DOES NOT HATE YOU. platonically or otherwwise, but ESPECIALLY PLATONICALLY, gam DOES NOT FUCKIN HATE YOU.

CG: HOW WOULD YOU FUCKING KNOW THAT, ASSHOLE?! HUH?!?! YOU’RE NOT GAMZEE!

CA: if he really wwanted to cut you off that fuckin badly, then he wwoulda already blocked you by noww

CA: but guess wwhat? HE FUCKIN HASNT.

CA: in fact - an this is comin from wwhat YOU told me, by the fuckin wway - he evven cared enough to specifically tell you that youre still friends an he DOESNT. FUCKIN. HATE YOU.

CA: an i said hes PROBABLY gonna ghost me, not that he ALREADY HAS

CA: cod i cant believe IM the one wwho has to keep tellin ya this

CA: between your shit an gams general paleness sometimes i almost feel like im cuttin it real close to the line a pale infidelity here

CA: youre a self-deprecatin fuckin idiot you knoww that

CG: ..................

CG: YEAH. I KNOW.

CG: SO. WHAT NOW?

CA: i dont knoww

CA: i just thought i should probably let you knoww about the recent devvelopment

CG: ...FAIR.

CA: i guess we could try askin kan wwhat to do about this shit

CG: THAT’S PROBABLY A GOOD IDEA. SHE’S THE ONLY VOICE OF REASON BETWEEN THE THREE OF US.

CA: id take offense to that

CA: but honestly youre right

CA: ill make a memo

* * *

\-- caligulasAquarium [CA] opened memo so wwevve got a problem on board The Only Trolls On Alternia With A Sense Of Fashion (plus kar cause hes a borin fuck like the rest a them) (OH FUCK OFF AMPORA) --

CA: so

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] responded to memo --

\-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] responded to memo --

GA: When Dont We Have A Problem Nowadays

CA: okay true

CA: but this is serious business this time

CG: WE FOUND OUT THAT ERIDAN’S “GAM” IS ACTUALLY THE SAME PERSON AS MY FRIEND.

GA: The One With The Sopor Addiction

CG: YES.

GA: Oh

GA: Oh Dear

CA: yeah

CA: kinda fucked up

CG: AND NOW WE’RE TRYING TO FIGURE OUT WHAT THE FUCK TO DO WITH THIS INFORMATION.

GA: Well It Will Be Much Easier Confronting Your Friend About His Problem For One

GA: Since He Will Not Be Able To Simply Ignore You If Eridan Goes To Him In Person To Talk

CA: yeah but i think i scared him off

CA: i mean as his kismesis its practically my JOB to make him get off his ass an get outta this funk

CA: but its pretty bad

CG: YOU’RE NOT HIS KISMESIS, ERIDAN.

CA: semantics

CG: NO, IT IS *REALLY* NOT.

CA: anywway it doesnt change the fact that he cant really be a good kismesis ta ANYONE if he doesnt fix his shit

CA: plus hes also my hatefriend

CA: so still my problem

CG: ARE YOU SURE ABOUT THAT? NOW THAT I KNOW WHO “GAM” IS, I’M PRETTY SURE YOU’RE FULL OF SHIT. GAMZEE DOESN’T HAVE A HATEFUL BONE IN HIS SCRAWNY CLOWN MEATSACK.

CA: uh huh tell that to THE LITTER CONSTANTLY REAPPEARIN AROUND MY FUCKIN HIVVE

GA: Wait

GA: Did You Say Gamzee

CG: UH, YEAH? WHAT ABOUT IT?

GA: As In

GA: Gamzee Makara

CG: .......................................

CG: WHAT.

CA: oh fuckin hell

CG: THE.

CG: ACTUAL.

CA: you knoww him too?

CG: FUCK.

GA: Yes

GA: The Circumstances Under Which We Met Are

GA: Complicated

GA: To Say The Least

GA: But Yes I Do

CA: oh wwhat the hell

CG: THIS IS HONESTLY KIND OF FUCKING RIDICULOUS, AT THIS POINT.

CA: yeah sorta is

GA: I Concur

CG: ANYWAYS, BACK TO THE POINT.

CG: WHAT THE FUCK DO WE DO?

GA: We Will Probably Need To Come Up With A Plan To Confront Him

GA: Obviously It Will Be Imperative That Eridan Is The One To Do So

GA: Since He Is The Only One Of Us Who Can Talk To Him In Meatspace

CA: yeah but honestly

CA: theres nothin stoppin him from slammin his hivve door in my face an refusin to speak to me

CA: then id havve to deal wwith his lusus an frankly im kinda wwary about crossin his goatdad

CG: ERIDAN. HIS LUSUS IS LITERALLY AN HERBIVORE BAABEAST.

CG: AN AQUATIC ONE, BUT STILL. HE’S A *BAABEAST*.

CA: no you dont fuckin understand kar

CA: thats the fuckin point

CG: UH HUH. AND, PRAY TELL, EXACTLY *HOW* DOES THIS MAKE A LITERAL BAABEAST LUSUS AS DANGEROUS AS YOU CLAIM HE IS?

CA: see youvve fallen for his trap too

CA: everyone thinks baabeasts a the goat vvariety are just as harmless as the sheep ones

CA: an technically they ARE supposed ta be herbivvores

CA: but in reality they dont care what they eat, plants or meat or troll, it doesnt matter

CA: they wwill eat ANYTHIN, includin intruders, and theyre FUCKIN TERRIFYIN.

GA: Oh Wow

CG: SUUUURE.

CG: YOU KNOW WHAT I THINK? I THINK YOU’RE FULL OF HOOFBEAST MANURE.

CA: shut the fuck up kar

CA: you havvent seen goatdad when a potential hostile gets into range a gams hivve

CA: i wwas really fuckin lucky he wwas out the first time i met gam or me an my lusus wwoulda been dead fuckin meat

CA: skyhorsedad is awwesome but gams lusus wwoulda made a snack outta the both a us in a collapsin an expandin bladder based aquatic system beat

CA: and do NOT say anythin about my fuckin vvocabulary

CG: I WASN’T GOING TO. IT’S NOT LIKE YOUR CHOICE IN VERNACULAR IS COMICALLY ABSURD OR ANYTHING.

CA: oh shut your trap

CA: point is theres a reason seagoats are usually the lusii a purplebloods

CG: OH, REALLY?

CA: ugh wwhatevver

CA: believve me if you wwant. or dont. its your head, if ya evver end up vvisitin gams place

CA: anywway the point is wwe need a better plan than “go to gams hivve and confront him” or i get eaten

CA: you wwouldnt wwant me to get eaten by gams lusus wwould ya

CG: I DON’T KNOW, IT SOUNDS PRETTY COMPELLING.

GA: Karkat

CA: oh fuck you too kar

GA: Eridan

CA: wwhat??

GA: We Have Greater Issues Than Petty Squabbling Right Now

CG: OKAY, FINE. YOU’RE RIGHT.

CA: fine fine

GA: So

GA: We Need To Find A Way To Talk To Gamzee Without Risk Of Getting Shut Out

GA: Any Ideas

CG: NOT REALLY...

CA: ......actually

CA: speakin a wwhen i first met gam

CG: THIS HAD BETTER BE RELATED TO THE PROBLEM AT HAND.

CA: yeah yeah it is, noww shut up for a second kar

CA: i recall gam givvin me a favvor

CA: i think i told you guys about this

CA: i nevver really figured out wwhat to do wwith it so i still havve that favvor savved up

GA: Oh

GA: Now Thats An Idea

CG: ERIDAN, YOU BRILLIANT BULGEMUNCHER! THAT’S FUCKING PERFECT!

CA: uh

CA: is ‘bulgemuncher’ really a compliment

GA: Dont Question It

CG: OH SHUT UP, I’VE GOT A PLAN. NOW, THIS IS WHAT WE’RE GOING TO DO.

* * *

_Now:_

They’ll admit, they kind of blanked on the ‘favor’ thing. Gamzee shuffles through their memories for a bit, trying to remember why they would owe Eridan a favor, then finally recalls it; their first meeting. Of course. How could they have forgotten?

“Oh. Well… guess I got no choice but to accept, now don’t I?” They shrug, unease creeping upon them with the thinning haze of their calming high, and ask, “What is it, Eridan?”

Eridan glances at his tablet again, then flips it around for them to see the screen.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

They’re not freaking out as they would if they were completely sober, but Mildly High Gamzee isn’t stupid enough not to realize that this is a _problem_ \- with a captial P and a tiny little ‘TM’ tagged on at the tail end of the word.

The faces of Karkat, Sollux _and_ Kanaya look at them from the tablet screen, and ah fuuuuuuuuck. This is an intervention, isn’t it.

“Wow. Uh.” They look back up at Eridan. “So... I’m guessin’ I know what the favor is.”

He nods. “You gotta let us talk to you about- this.” Eridan gestures at them. “Your problem.”

Gamzee hums in understanding. They thought so.

So. Hm. Well, fuck. There’s really no way out of this, is there?

They step away from the doorway, and lazily wave the two in. “Well, I ain’t gonna make a motherfucker just stand out here to talk about this, am I?”

They. Are. _Screeeeeeeewed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the following a/n below is completely unrelated to the fic above. its just me rambling about a completely unrelated subject feel free to ignore it
> 
> okay so is it weird that i recall myself telling someone imma shank them, except i cant remember who or their reaction at all? like it surely cant have happened irl but i cant even remember if it was in a dream or a fanfic situation i thought up. kinda freaky
> 
> gonna be honest here though; whenever i dreamed/thought of saying that, the other thing on my mind when i did was this one fic where i keep on thinking "oh my fucking gods im going to fUCKING SHANK SOLLUX (but i cant bc technically its not his fault jghfjdhgksj)" bc like. so they have solkar flush endgame ship but then since karkat and all the other trolls have turned into humans for Bullshit Game Reasons and dont remember shit, also for bullshit Game reasons, and hes dating jake pale, when his now-human-but-cant-remember-jack-shit troll friends and family find out, human sollux who dOESNT REMEMBER FUCKING QUADRANTS is heartbroken bc he has a (flush)crush on karkat and now he hates jake. and i want to scream at him because THEYRE DATING FUCKING PALE NOT FLUSH THERE SHOULDNT BE AN ISSUE BUT NO. N O , HE CANT REMEMBER BEING A TROLL SO HE DOESNT REMEMBER QUADRANTS KJGFKDJKJKSJKFJKS
> 
> its amazing u should read it, its not romance-focused but its rly good and its called "To Live a Normal Life? How preposterous!" by 09Pyros_09Hydros
> 
> that is all


	12. man this is awfully tense isnt it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im really not all that great at getting down into the rly darker, nitty-gritty aspects of dystopia shit like alternia, so the troll kids are probably a little too soft/caring ig for the world they realistically live in but why am i worrying abt this anyways its fanfictionkjskdfjkaj  
> ok yeah point is i hit a block for a while here  
> but im BACC™  
>  ~~watch me try to cover up my inability to write kids with bullshit excuses of ‘wack alien development’~~  
>  at the time of my writing this a/n i have not yet completed the chapter but well. gonna be real here theres probably going to be some tears because this gamzee is a reflection of me and I DONT DO WELL UNDER CONFRONTATIONAL-BRAND STRESS ABOUT MY ISSUES fkgjfjjfjksffgksf like i kid you not i am SHIT at it.  
> (at-posting update: tears are not involved yet. because things got too serious and tense for me so i decided to break it up with some plot-building FKJDKD. we'll see what happens next chapter tho)
> 
> sorry abt the horrible ch title lmao i have no braincells for it rn. i might edit this more later idk i just wanna posttttttttt atm

Honestly, in hindsight? This wouldn’t have ballooned out to be such a big deal if they hadn’t taken the coward’s way out and blocked off their friends to avoid _talking_ about their _problems_ like a mature human bei- god _dammit,_ TROLL being. Fuck.

Then again, they _are_ all, like. Weirdly mature eight year-olds. _Really_ weirdly mature eight year-olds. Seriously, what is with the maturity standard here on Alternia? Are trolls just… _wired_ that way? Who knows.

The point is; if they hadn’t chickened out and ghosted everyone, they could have just been, “yeah I’m on fucking drugs, so what?” and their friends wouldn’t have been _happy_ but they definitely wouldn’t have gotten this concerned.

They’re all sitting awkwardly in Gamzee’s living room, which they can’t remember the proper troll name for. Piumma sits a little off to the side. Eridan seats himself with the tablet propped up in his lap, facing Gamzee.

The silence is shockingly awkward.

“So,” Gamzee prompts, eventually, because seriously, this is getting kind of _really_ awkward.

“So,” Eridan says. He’s kind of looking at them weirdly, but that’s not too strange, given the… _situation_ on their hands.

“You wanted to talk.” They can’t help some fidgeting, rubbing their uncomfortably dry thumbs against their other uncomfortably dry fingers together to stave off the nervous energy. They can feel their hands quickly becoming clammy now that they’re paying attention, but their lidded, neutral expression isn’t that hard to keep up. They’re out of practice, since they’ve lived alone except with Goatdad ~~they haven’t seen him in a couple of days~~ for a long while, but they can still manage a decent enough poker face.

Gamzee wonders when this is going to be over, and how they’re going to break it to the others that they’re not stopping, no matter what they all say.

“Yeah,” they hear him say. Make eye contact with him, c’mon Gamzee, it’s not that hard- or, no, _nevermind_ Jegus Christ that’s a piercing look for an eight year-old.

Maybe Gamzee doesn’t have to _break it to them._ Their business isn’t necessarily their friends’ business unless Gamzee is being fucking stupid and completely shutting them out, after all. Like now. Which is what led to this. Because they are utterly stupid.

“Hey, nooksniffers. The three of us exist, too,” Karkat grumbles, quieter than usual. “You know, your other friends, who are equally as pissed at you as Eridan is _if not more._ ”

They wince _hard_ on the inside and their chest twinges lightly (gods, they’re such a fucking _idiot_ ), but externally, Gamzee just blinks a little harder than usual and tightly pinches the hem of their shirt between their fingers. Breaking their impeccable fake eye-contact (they’d been examining Eridan’s subtle freckles, right underneath his eyes), they look down at the tablet - which is still indeed in the seadweller boy’s lap - and proceed to mutedly panic on the inside for two seconds in an attempt to find their suddenly missing words.

In the end, they end up just slipping out a way too calm “Hi.” A beat. “Karbro, Solbro. Kansis.”

Murder them now, Jegus _motherfucking Christ they’re bad at this._

They can’t read Sollux’s face, but that isn’t saying much; they’d only seen his face once before, after all, and they were high off their ass at the time. Karkat, though... he looks more angry than he usually does. As for Kanaya - there’s a softer expression on her face, and though they can’t tell what it is very well, they think it’s something like pity. Or disappointment. Or a mix of the two, or something else entirely. It’s strange to see her in anything other than her Prospit pajamas; what little they can see of her current garb suits her, they think.

“‘Hi’?” Karkat says incredulously, snapping their slowly dwindling attention back to focus on him entirely. “You haven’t been in contact for over a fucking week and all you have to say is _‘HI’?!_ ”

They don’t flinch when his voice raises towards the end, but it’s a close thing. Their chest roils mutedly with guilt and, oh. Their throat is already closing up. Wonderful.

“Karkat, I do not think that yelling at him is going to solve much,” they hear Kanaya say placatingly, and they’re thankful for it but Karkat’s _right._

Not listening to whatever retort Karkat bites back at her, Gamzee silently takes a slow, deep breath, to open up their airways so they might be able to actually fucking _talk._ They sure haven’t missed this feeling over the past eight years. Actually, they’re kind of surprised Karkat hasn’t kept on talking to them yet? But they’ll take what they can get.

They don’t fucking know how to _do_ confrontation. From their experience, conversations of this kind are usually just someone else talking to them and them standing there and listening and stewing in their thoughts and answering back in short responses when necessary. There tended to be tears involved, they remember. Their heart is sensitive and they’re _really_ bad at not crying at any and every emotional stressor above ‘mild’.

This was all years ago, though, so the memories are fuzzy. And these are their _friends,_ anyways. Confrontations with people their age - _friends who care about them_ \- face to face, especially about any real issue of their own, is an entirely new experience. This is weird and a little surreal and _uncomfortable_ as hell, and Gamzee really doesn’t know how this is going to go.

“Gamzee?”

A full-body twitch catches them by surprise with the voice. Their glasses nearly slip off their face- wait. Glasses?

_Fuck._ Gamzee forgot they were wearing those. Curse their damn sentimentality, they don’t even _need_ the damn things; the glass isn’t even fucking _perscriptioned,_ they’ve just stared wearing it recently because it’s a habit they wanted to carry on from their past life. They should not have answered the door in these. Fuck.

They hastily shove their glasses back up the bridge of their nose and look at Piumma, the one who’d addressed them. The teen (seven sweep-old) seems awkward, but still smiles amiably in what is probably an attempt to calm them; Piumma, who seems a bit out of place but is still there because they _care_ and aaaaaaaa _aaaagh. Why didn’t Gamzee do something to prevent this._

“Yeah?” they manage to get out. Their gaze flicks to Eridan, whose gaze is already set on them with a who-knows-what-the-fuck face. They just know he doesn’t look angry - he’s uncharacteristically calm. Observing.

Gamzee breaks eye contact first, deigning not to look at anyone’s eyes after that. It’s easy to forget, with the highblood privilege of living so far out that even their closest neighbor is nearly beyond shouting distance despite being on the same beach; but no one here is _human._ The yellow sclera just reminds them why this is all necessary in the first place - of how out of place they are here. How they don’t quite _belong_ on this planet, or even in this _universe._

Technically, Earth doesn’t even exist yet.

“You alright there?” Piumma says.

Knee-jerk reaction: _Yes._ Actual answer: _No._ Gamzee doesn’t voice either, though; just nods. The faint, calming buzz of sopor only barely helps, but honestly, they might have already completely clammed up without it. Instead, they’re able to coax out some words from their throat after a mere few seconds instead of never. “Sorry,” they say, and it’s probably a touch too quiet but the words almost seem to echo in their ears. Inadequate, pathetic. They sink back into their seat; they hadn’t known they’d gone so tense. “I... have been really. Fucking stupid about this.”

They hear a grumble that sounds vaguely like a ‘no shit’ from the tablet, but they don’t look to see who it was. The arm of the sofa Eridan is sitting on is suddenly an increasingly appealing object of interest.

“Glad you’re seein’ sense,” the seadweller boy himself says, and Gamzee grimaces slightly at that. Because they’re not. Not really.

Inhale, slowly; their left hand cards through their hair from hairline to crown, the tips of their claws scraping lightly against scalp. The side of their hands brush against the bases of their horns. Exhale, carefully; they let their hand slip back down over their face, fingers tangling in their hair along the way and lightly skimming their glasses before falling back into their lap.

They shift their weight forwards, elbows resting on their thighs; leaning into the couch doesn’t feel right, for a conversation with this atmosphere. “Look... Eridan,” they say quietly, still avoiding his gaze, _anyone’s_ gaze. (Yellow, not white. Troll, not human. You don’t belong here, your existence will _Doom_ everybody.) “I... motherfuck, how do I say this?” A nervous laugh tumbles out of their mouth, and in their vision’s periphery they see Eridan narrow his eyes at them.

He picks up the tablet, and stands up. Gamzee glances at him, watches his every movement, though never really looking into his eyes. Eridan props up the tablet against the backrest of his seat, then turns back to glare at Gamzee.

“Gam. You really can’t fuckin’ tell me you think _anythin’_ good’ll come from eatin’ that shit,” he says bluntly, a scowl taking over his face. “Sleepin’ in it, yeah, cause that’s wwhat it’s fuckin’ _made_ for, but you can’t _eat_ sopor!”

They can see why he moved the tablet. With all that gesticulating he’s doing, he definitely would have knocked it over at some point.

“Wwhat wwere you fuckin’ _thinkin’?_ ” he demands, stepping around the coffee table and closer to Gamzee, and growing louder and more furious and with every increasingly clicking word. “Wwhat the glubbin’ fuck made you think it’d be a _great_ fuckin’ idea to become a _slimenug_ like those drugged-up lowwblood fuckers in the city?!” They glance quickly at the tablet screen, just in time to catch Sollux bristling at the perceived insult before their eyes snap back to Eridan again. “Like the _idiots_ who go out _ruinin’_ their thinkpans evvery night and sellin’ their crappy shit to all their other other dirtblooded, pan-rotted hatefriends?!”

Where Eridan stops, his face is right up in front of their own, eyes alight with fury and brows creased harshly into a half a snarl; but Gamzee freezes themself in their seat, sitting with their back ramrod straight and claws fisted into the edge of their seat, neck tilted backwards to see his face and refusing to lean away.

But still they had listened carefully, and ignored the slight pressure building up in their head, the thoughts of anger and _you don’t know what I’m sacrificing for us_ slowly beginning to circulate through their brain. Because listening is the only thing they know how to do; listening and thinking too much and standing still with their mouth shut, stewing in the hateful thoughts of their own making while the words told to them fuel the simmering vat of poison in their head that _burns._

Their eyes don’t sting with the freshness of tears just yet, but it’s a close thing.

They’ve been silent for too long, because Eridan speaks again. “Tell me,” he hisses, leaning in an inch closer with all  _ click-click-click _ -ing growls and righteous anger, and all Gamzee can think of behind keeping their expression straight and not flinching back and trying not to set off their hair-trigger tear ducts is  _ those teeth could tear my nose off. _ “ _ Wwhy. _ ”

The hive is silent, for a moment that seems much longer than it actually is. There’s a palpable tension in the four, five inches between them, and a distant little hysterical thought in the back of their brain thinks, _damn, this could be the plot of a blackrom novel._

Deep breath in. Decidedly ignore the lukewarm breaths on their face. Open their mouth, try not to think about the marigold of their friend’s sclera, force the sound out- speak. Fucking _speak,_ dammit, say _anything,_ as long as they don’t be a useless fuck and just fucking _speak-_

“Well,” they say, their voice cracking a little on the word, and there’s a vaguely tingly ‘definitely about to cry’ feeling building up in their nose, but once the first sound is out the rest starts to come easier. “I hate to say this, but, uhm. Frankly. What I do with myself is none of your business.”

Wrong move. They know that the instant they see Eridan jerk - a tiny recoil, expression morphing into shock then back to anger in a handful of seconds.

He leans back, slowly, staring at them. Gamzee is suddenly aware of the tense, hunched-up position of their shoulders, halfway up to their ears, and they gradually set them down and straight again.

“I hate to interrupt your budding black romanthe, I _really_ do,” Sollux says flatly, and both their heads whip towards the tablet, startled - their budding _what_ now?! “but you’ll have plenty of time to hateflirt at eacth other later. I’m pretty thure we were having an _acthual converthathion_ here, not an intimidathion-off, Ampora.”

Eridan’s face twists into an even more angry expression, and Gamzee _should_ probably stop him from snapping back but they’re honestly just grateful for the short relief.

So he does, and they carefully relax their tense muscles as they think on how they’re going to approach this. Though they’re honestly probably paying more attention to the spat between Eridan and Sollux than anything.

They’re not putting it off, promise! Just... yeah, okay they’re totally putting it off. But the extra time is still appreciated.

* * *

“Oh my fucking gods, we left them alone for _eight years!_ Eight. Fucking. Years. I thought nothing was supposed to _happen_ until the damn Game except for that damn FLARP incident, what the _hell_ happened to cause _this-_ ”

You tune out the magenta-clad individual as they continue to rant, pacing slightly and making exaggerated gestures towards their PC monitor. Frankly, you could give less of a shit; you’re a little concerned, of course, but if this version of the clown dude has enough brains and decency to be ashamed of himself you’re sure he’s going to be fine. Though you’re not sure why your sibling cares so much what happens to these people, other than the arbitrary attachment that comes with investing emotion into any piece of media.

Not that you’re one to talk. You just haven’t read Homestuck; its ridiculous length plus all of the pesterlogs turned off your interest pretty quickly.

They’re still going off. _Ugh._

You have been stuck in your dead universe for the last few days, at your sibling’s insistence. It hasn’t been _too_ boring, what with the miraculous infinite WiFi and internet connection, but things have been much less eventful as opposed to what you usually get up to. Hopefully this’ll throw the evil, godly version of Hulk (who gets _unlimited immortality,_ no fucking fair) off your trail for a while.

“Heart,” you say, exasperated, “just _shut up._ ”

They throw you a flat look. It bounces off of you uselessly. “Mind, this is _important shit._ We _need_ them to not fuckin’ _die_ or become absolute disasters before entering the game so we can actually get their help!”

“And they’re not dead, _are they?_ ”

“Well _yeah,_ but _still!_ ” They run both their hands through their short hair in several anxious, repeated motions. “I don’t know how this happened. We didn’t _touch_ their timeline other than to scope it out and connect it to the viewports, there’s no _way_ we caused _this_ big of a ripple with so little actions, _especially_ since we were careful not to be seen!”

You bring your phone up to your face, gently _donk_ your forehead against its top edge, and sigh heavily.

Yeah. This is your sibling. You are related to this disaster of a human being, fortunately and not-so fortunately. On the plus side, it means you’re alive; but on the downside, you’ve been dragged along for the ride on the adventure that is your current life. The immortality and infinite timelines is a sweet perk, though you could do without a rip-off of Hulk trying to murder you every few time hops.

“Stop worrying about it! They’re gonna be _fine._ ” You gesture lazily at the viewport screen, saying, “See, they’re getting along _just fine._ You saw the most recent update to their timeline. Are any of them dead? _No._ ”

Heart drops back into their chair and groans dramatically. “ _Stiiiiiiill._ ”

“Heart, I am _trying_ to read the latest episode of Tower of God. Do you know how hard it is to find a universe with it that’s progressed far enough without collapsing that it has sufficient updates?!” you exclaim.

They groan even louder, and you decide you’re done with them. You secure your Bluetooth headphones over your ears, then turn the music up and your attention back to the precious, shiny and new webcomic episodes.

The fate of this timeline can wait. It’s not going anywhere, and you have Webtoon episodes to read.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:)
> 
> just so u know this fic might not be epilogues-compliant  
> bc i literally have not gotten farther than the first chapter or two of meat  
> but im not sure i want to from what my fellow homestucks on discord tell me  
> like fucking obama is a character  
> FUCKING. OBAMA.  
> like. jegus motherfuckin christ on a stick what the hell  
> What the FRESH. FUCKING. HELL.
> 
> anyways im still gonna have to read it eventually, bc homestuck^2 has got me HOOKED and i need the fuckin backstory provided in the epilogues for that so. f.  
> also the dirk chapter in pesterquest. i am totally watching a pesterquest playthrough sometime in the near future but to do that i need to rEAD THE EPILOUGES so yeah lmao


	13. everything is absolutely fine. no, they don't accept criticism.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE.
> 
> not gonna lie, i really wrote myself into a corner w that last chapter - too much seriousness and emotion involved for me to NOT agonize over literally every detail to make sure its accurate and perfect, at the time - but im back now so its all good!

After they manage to calm down with a few minutes of absentmindedly listening to Eridan and Sollux sniping back and forth, Gamzee comes to the realization that they had been intimidated by a _four sweep-old._

Four sweeps. Under nine fucking years old. A _literal infant._

They’re kind of miffed about it - more than they’d ever admit to - because, _what._ How the _fuck_ did an _eight year-old_ scare them as much as Eridan had?! He’s tiny and adorable and absolutely ridiculous, which is so obviously evident in his stylishly obnoxious cape and agitatedly puffed-up demeanor as he argues with Sollux like the self-confident kid he is; how the _actual fuck_ did Gamzee become genuinely terrified of his anger, in that moment?

Maybe they’ve gotten a little _too_ used to the idea of being a kid again. And being alone.

(Goatdad is wonderful and he does his best - usually - but... it’s not the same. _He’s_ not the same, and they love him but Goatdad can’t... he’s no replacement for their human family. Sometimes they still wake up in the morning expecting someone- _anyone_ to be home, anyone other than their lusus who can barely fit his shoulders into their hive, and _long_ when they hear the emptiness and remember that there’s no one there but themself.)

Point is, their face-to-face socialization skills have tanked. Even though they’re used to Eridan and Piumma by now, it still shows, in how they handled the unfamiliar situation. Which is to say: badly.

Gods, they’re a fucking mess.

* * *

“Order in the court, order in the court,” you mutter as Kanaya rounds up her idiots on the viewport screen, and your sister rolls her eyes at you like the sarcastic little shit she is. _Honestly._ If it weren’t for the laws of these lands-

Anyways. As you were saying; Kanaya rounds up her idiots (cough cough _EridanandSollux_ cough cough) into some semblance of order. They get back to semi-arguing with Gamzee about why kids like him should _not_ do drugs and do stay in school(feeding), but the purple dude isn’t having it. Because of course he isn’t, this is _Gamzee_ you’re talking about. Same old, same old.

But... he seems weirdly... reluctant. Hesitant.

_That’s_ a new one.

“Why is he so _different?_ ” you murmur. In lieu of a reply, you hear a light series of crunches on your left, and you turn to Mind.

You level her with your best deadpan stare. “Mind. _Seriously?_ ”

She shrugs, and pops a couple more pieces of popcorn into her mouth. “I got bored.”

“Oh my gods this is literally someone’s _life_ we’re watching. Have you no- no, of course you don’t, you’re _Mind,_ what was I thinking.”

“No what?”

“No fucking shame, that’s what,” you say flatly. And eye the bowl of popcorn. “...Can I have some?”

She huffs out a laugh at your blatant hypocrisy. “Yeah, sure.”

You take some popcorn, and mutter out a thanks. It’s buttery, not plain, thank the gods.

Aaaaand somehow they all started shouting in the split second you looked away. Or, well - _Karkat_ did. Same difference.

“Fuck, we missed something,” you curse. “Gimme a sec, I’ll just- rewind this-”

* * *

And the lecture is back on. Oh, goodie. At least Gamzee doesn’t feel so much like a helpless, hapless, hopeless dumbass this time.

(Hah. _Hopeless._ )

“You gotta stop-” Eridan, significantly calmer and apparently in charge of the talking now, gestures at Gamzee in general. “-this. The fuckin’ sopor. It isn’t doin’ anythin’ for you besides rottin’ your thinkpan an’ makin’ it highly fuckin’ unlikely for you to survvivve conscription if ya keep goin’.”

They see a little flinch from Karkat and a blanker look from Sollux at the mention of _conscription,_ and ah, yes. Conscription. Gamzee has never really worried about conscription; they’ve never had _reason_ to worry about it, since they are aware of the fact that they won’t even survive that long, and _much_ less the rest of the fucking world. Only them twelve, and the Condesce. The Vast Glub will kill everyone plus Sollux, and oh right they shouldn’t be going on a thinking tangent right now. Uh. What were they thinking about again? Conscription… no, no, a little farther back… oh, right. Sopor killing their chances at _surviving_ conscription.

Gamzee just shrugs a little at this, and says after a brief, careful consideration of their words, “‘S my life choices, brother. Ain’t your business to be gettin’ all up in except to tell me to stop bein’ stupid and shutting you all out.”

Eridan glares unhappily at them with that response. Kanaya has this concerned look on her face, and that’s all they can catch of the people on the screen before the seadweller boy catches their attention again. This time more forcefully, Eridan says, “Gam, do you understand wwhat I’m fuckin’ sayin’ right now?” His narrowed glare combined with the low _click-click-click_ punctuating his words is kind of intense, and surprisingly effective, coming from, you know. An eight year-old. They can’t look away, because that would be admitting weakness and quite possibly _defeat_ on this issue, and they cannot - _will not_ do that. “You’re killin’ yourself. The fuckin’ sopor is killin’ your thinkpan, an’ when time comes for conscription your thinkpan’s gonna be so dead the drones will _cull you on sight._ ”

...Oh.

_You’re killing yourself._

That... huh. Not in the way Eridan thinks, but they _are_ kind of setting themself up to die like this, aren’t they?

That’s not important now, though.

They stare at him for a few seconds, giving the hypothetical ‘if we got conscripted’ scenario a bit of idle thought. Their mind quickly takes off with ‘what would be the hypothetical consequences of that’ - which isn’t a lot - and they shrug again. “One less subjuggalo for the lowbloods ta be terrified of, ain’t it? Win-win, everyone’s happy,” they say, then immediately regret the words the second they come out of their mouth because _okay that sounded less depressing in their head, fuck no Gamzee you IDIOT that’s not the impression you’re supposed to be fucking making!!!_

Damn it. Look at the shocked faces of your peers, they think. You fucked this up, Gamzee, they think. Look at what you did. Now you have to deal with the consequences of your dumb, dumb mouth.

Idiot.

“IT IS _NOT_ A FUCKING ‘WIN-WIN’ SITUATION, YOU SHITLICKING, NOOKFONDLING, GLOBES-FOR-SPONGES _BULGEFUCKER!!!_ ” Karkat screeches, frantic, high clicks and chirps dispersed liberally into his yelling, and _oh_ dear, they- they kind of earned this one. Fuck. “WHY THE _EVERPITYING_ FUCK WOULD YOU SAY THAT KIND OF HOOFBEAST MANURE YOU IGNORANT, _TAINTCHAFING-_ ”

Gamzee slowly lowers their face into their hands, Karkat’s shouts ringing in their ears and fuck, they almost _miss_ being yelled at from him, even if it’s by voice instead of over text. They carefully avoid their face paint as they press the heels of their palms into their eyesockets and resist the strong urge to perform a Facepalm x2 Combo as hard as they can. It’ll smudge their face paint. They don’t want smudged face paint. Do it for the face paint, Gamzee.

Bluh.

“GAMZEE ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?!”

They mumble out something in reply.

“I couldn’t hear that!!”

“I _said,_ why the motherfuck is this any of your problems?” they grumble out louder, which was _not_ what they said, but what they said was childish so new fucking plan now. They don’t let their eyes linger long on the sight of Karkat’s hurt-surprised face. “I’ve let you talk to me. I get it. I’ll stop shutting you all out, so _motherfucking Christ,_ just- stop.” They let out a slow, controlled breath. _This is for the best._ “Please.”

“Gamzee,” a voice says to their left, accompanied by a low _chirrup,_ and - Piumma. They... they’ll admit, they almost forgot the other gender-neutral troll was there. Maybe the older has just been letting their friends, who probably know Gamzee better than Piumma does, take the wheel. “They’re worried about you - hell, _I_ am, too. Let us help you.”

Deep breath. In, out. They lower their hands. “I don’t _need_ your help,” they say, a touch of biting ice in it that they regret almost instantly but refuse to take back, because _dammit_ there’s a _reason_ they’re doing this. “I’m _motherfucking fine,_ and it ain’t as if you can actually _stop_ me.” Their eyes sweep over the others as they speak, just to make it clear that they’re talking to _everyone,_ not just Piumma. “What, are you gonna grubsit me twenty-four-seven? None of you are close enough to do that ‘cept Eridan, and _he’s_ got motherfuckin’ _responsibilities._ ”

Eridan’s hands slam down onto the table, defiance screaming from every pore of his body. “ _That isn’t the fuckin’ point,_ ” he grits out. “The point is, you need to _stop._ ” High-pitched clicking trill; they think that one’s agitation but _not the point, fuck._ “Wwhy can’t you see that wwe’re tryin’ t’ _help you?!_ ”

“I _don’t care,_ ” they snap, _tired_ of this conversation and all the charged emotions it’s brought with it, and they almost don’t catch the tiny flinch that startles from their friend. And _gods,_ they hate themself for that but now’s not the time to brood over it. “I’m-” Gamzee inhales sharply, closing their eyes for two seconds, and stands. The weight on their hands, to push themself up, brings their attention to the slight tremors of the appendages. “I’m done. I can’t- I don’t want to have this conversation anymore. Thank you for your concern, but I’m _done._ ”

After hesitating for a split second out of habit - to see if anyone has anything else to say, but Eridan just... stares, blankly, they can’t see the tablet screen, and Piumma has their hands raised halfway, like they want to do _something,_ but they’re not sure what - they start to head back up to their room, suddenly acutely aware of the tension coiled tightly in their chest.

“Gamzee?”

Kanaya’s voice freezes them mid-step. The child (because fuck, this all just reminds them that they have _no idea_ what they’re fucking doing, and isn’t fifteen still considered a kid’s age?) turns around with forcibly relaxed muscles, refusing to show apprehension in the tension of their muscles again. Eridan picks up the tablet stiffly, flipping the screen towards Gamzee so she can speak.

They tilt their head slightly in query - there’s no way they’re getting their voice to work again, after announcing their departure (because they can _do that,_ because these are people they can actually walk away from; fortunately or otherwise).

“Like your friend said - we are doing this because we worry,” Kanaya says, not unkindly. Her voice is a gentle, soothing thing, laced with careful, low chirps, even as the words jab a little at their heart. “You are currently showing less regard for your own life than anyone I’ve known before, and frankly, it’s a little terrifying.”

Before they can stop themself, a gentle huff escapes them via the nose, a part of them being inappropriately amused at the statement. _Oh, I’ve known worse,_ they murmur voicelessly, unwilling to say it out loud even if they could. A somewhat sideways incline of the head to show they heard; and after another quick, hesitant glance at everyone, they turn back to the stairs and walk away.

They don’t like the weight that settles into their sternum, as they try not to think about their friends’ eyes on their back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (no, i have still not continued to read the homestuck epilogues yet. i dont know if i want to lmao but i probably will.... eventually.)  
> (at some point.)
> 
> ngl, the ending was a liiiittle rushed on my part. i just wanted this chapter, and the conversation, done and over with - and thus, this was reflected onto Gamzee themself. it's just REALLY HARD to keep on writing for the same, emotionally-draining (in the story, at least; it's just mentally taxing to write, not really emotionally) and emotionally-charged situation in a linear manner, esp when i was personally of the opinion that any longer than two chapters for the convo itself was too much. i didn't quite manage to reach the 2k i usually shoot for in every chapter as a result, but hey, it's close enough.
> 
> hope it was okay :) i didnt really check it over as much this time, so pls point out any significant mistakes if you spot them!!!!


	14. i wish i could give you the sorries you wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some apologies are in order. Gamzee isn't the best at them, and they can't make promises, but they try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so like
> 
> i did a significant amount of editing to this fic because i JUST realized that the hc of trolls having other aspects of verbal communication existed and i,,,, wanted to,,,,,, do that,
> 
> so thats a thing now. a bunch of the dialogue and stuff now has chirpy and clicky noises narrated :D i tried to make it fit in smoothly enough so i hope its not too bad lmao.
> 
> if u wanna go back and read it, the chapters w edited stuff thats either significant in number or probably important are 5, 6, 10, and MAYBE 2 and 13. the ones w minimal/not-so-important stuff are chapters 7 and 12 (you'd probably barely even notice it was there).
> 
> if ur confused abt what the various chirping and clicking things mean, ill have a list of of their definitions and stuff at the beginning note of this fic so go check it out if youd like!!! though it might still be a little confusing as you read. their purpose IS mostly to convey emotion, after all, and thats not always easy to describe even in our own fuckin language haha. its not gonna be like super amazing but hopefully it makes sense enough -v-
> 
> aaannnnnnd heres the chapter!
> 
> (God Damn It i forgot to change the publication date to current time again :/)

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] started trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA] at 18:37 --

TC: hEy

TC: iM sOrRy

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] ceased trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA] at 18:37 --

\-- grimAuxiliatrix [GA] started trolling terminallyCascading [TC] at 18:39 --

GA: Sorry For What

TC: yOu KnOw. FoR. bEiNg AlL dEpReSsInG aNd StUfF yEsTeRdAy. AnD dISmIsSiNg AlL oF yOuR wOrRiEs AbOuT mY wElLbEiNg.

TC: aNd I. yEaH. i’M sOrRy.

GA: Well

GA: Its Not Exactly The Apology I Would Have Liked

GA: Because I Really Do Think It Would Be Much Better For You In The Long Run If You Stopped Consuming Sopor Entirely

GA: But I Will Accept It Because Clearly Neither Party Is Willing To Budge On This Subject And Continuing To Remain At Odds Over It Will Only Make Everyone More Miserable

TC: tHaNk YoU, kAnSiS

TC: rEaLlY

TC: i ReAlLy Do ApPrEcIaTe It

GA: You Are Welcome

GA: I Appreciate Your Apology As Well

GA: I Would Also Hate To Have You Brood Over This Topic Every Time I See You On Prospit

GA: It Would Not Be Pleasant For Either Of Us

TC: ...i DoNt BrOoD!!

GA: You Were

TC: nOoO i WaSnT

GA: You Were Though

TC: hMmMmM. sUuUrE.

GA: You Were

TC: oKaY, sUrE. wE cAn MoThErFuCkIn SaY tHaT.

GA: Ha Ha Ha

TC: hAhA :o)

TC: i ShOuLd Go

TC: fIgUrE oUt HoW tO aPoLoGiZe To EvErYoNe ElSe AnD sHiT

GA: Yes That Might Be A Good Idea

TC: aLrIgHt, SeE yOu ThEn

GA: Wait

TC: ?

GA: Though I Am Not Sorry That We Tried To Help You

GA: Im Sorry For Pressuring You Like We Did

GA: It Must Have Been Stressful And Now That I Think About It We Could Have Been Able To Come Up With A Better Way To Handle It

GA: So I Apologize

TC: oH

TC: uH

TC: tHaNkS?

TC: iTs FiNe ThOuGh I gEt WhY yOu DiD It

GA: Still

GA: I Needed To Say That

TC: iTs AlL gOoD, kAnSiS

TC: tHaNkS aGaIn

GA: Not A Problem

GA: Goodbye Gamzee

TC: bYe, KaNsIs

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] ceased trolling grimAuxiliatrix [GA] at 18:53 --

* * *

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] is typing... --

~~[Unsent] TC: hEy. Im SoRrY aBoUt LaSt TiMe~~

~~[Unsent] TC: hEy, ErIdAn. I kNoW yOu MiGhT nOt EvEn WaNt To TaLk To Me BuT i~~

~~[Unsent] TC: iM sOrRy FoR~~

~~[Unsent] TC: gods im so fucking sorry, i dont like this just as much as you dont like this but i have to- fuck why am i even typing this out anyways i KNOW im not going to send it~~

* * *

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] started trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 19:07 --

TC: hEy, kArBrO. iM... iM sOrRy AbOuT wHaT hApPeNeD tHe LaSt TiMe We TaLkEd.

TC: aNd ThE oThEr TiMeS. i WaS sTuPiD aNd OvErReAcTiNg AnD i WoNt ShUt YoU oUt LiKe ThAt AgAiN. sOrRy.

CG: ...I’D BE LYING IF I SAID IT WASN’T YOUR FAULT.

CG: THIS WHOLE MESS WAS KIND OF A LOT YOUR FAULT, ACTUALLY, BECAUSE YEAH, YOU DID SHUT US OUT WITHOUT EXPLANATION. ALL OF US. EXCEPT KANAYA, BUT THAT’S ONLY BECAUSE YOU THOUGHT SHE DIDN’T KNOW US, AND WOULDN’T KNOW ABOUT YOUR ISSUE. THE SAME GOES FOR YOUR RUST PITYFRIEND.

CG: BUT I JUST WANT TO KNOW ONE THING.

CG: WHY DID YOU DO IT?

TC: dO wHaT

CG: THE SOPOR.

CG: WHY DID YOU START?

TC: ......uHm.

CG: DID SOMETHING HAPPEN? WERE YOU THAT FUCKING STRESSED OUT, OR SOMETHING? BY WHAT? WAS SOMETHING GOING ON THIS ENTIRE FUCKING TIME AND I DIDN’T NOTICE BECAUSE I WAS TOO BUSY SHOVING MY BLOATED NUGBONE UP MY WASTE CHUTE?

TC: nO!

TC: nO iTs NoT- iTs NoT yOuR fAuLt, GeT tHe MoThErFuCk OuT oF hErE wItH tHaT hOoFbEaSt ShIt KaRbRo

TC: iT wAsNt YoU

CG: THEN WHAT THE FUCK IS IT?!?!

CG: IF IT WASN’T ME BEING SUCH A HORRIBLE, SELF-CENTERED PITYFRIEND THAT I DIDN’T EVEN NOTICE, THEN *WHAT WAS IT?*

TC: i

TC: i DoNt

TC: kNoW

CG: ...YOU DON’T KNOW.

TC: i. JuSt.

TC: i DoNt KnOw

~~[Unsent] TC: i DoNt~~

~~[Unsent] TC: i CaNt~~

~~[Unsent] TC: i- FuCk~~

~~[Unsent] TC: fuck i hate this~~

TC: i CoUlDnT tElL yOu If I mOtHeRfUcKiNg WaNtEd To

CG: THAT’S BULLSHIT.

CG: YOU CAN’T JUST SAY THAT YOU DID THAT KIND OF *LITERALLY PAN-ROTTINGLY* STUPID SHIT FOR NO FUCKING REASON AT ALL!!!

CG: YOU CAN’T FUCKING *SAY* THAT.

CG: I KNOW YOU. YOU WOULDN’T DO THAT KIND OF SHIT FOR NO GOGDAMNED REASON. EVEN IF IT’S A FUCKING STUPID REASON, YOU WOULD HAVE *A REASON.*

TC: aNd Im TeLlInG yOu, KaRbRo, I dOnT hAvE aN aNsWeR fOr YoU

CG: NO. IT LOOKS LIKE YOU DON’T.

CG: NOT FOR ME, ANYWAY.

TC: ...tHaTs DiRtY

CG: I’M WILLING TO USE UNDERHANDED TACTICS IF IT GETS YOU TO STOP CLAMMING UP ABOUT WHATEVER THE FUCK IS GOING ON.

CG: I’M NOT YOUR MOIRAIL, BUT I’M YOUR BEST FRIEND. AND AS YOUR BEST FRIEND, I THINK YOU NEED TO STOP LYING ABOUT WHATEVER YOU’RE HIDING. IT’S NOT FUCKING HELPING ANYONE. INCLUDING YOU.

TC: ...........please

TC: just dont

CG: ...............

CG: FINE.

CG: I’LL DROP IT. FOR NOW.

TC: oK

TC: tHaNkS

CG: YOU’RE WELCOME.

CG: NORMALLY I WOULD NEVER ADMIT THIS WITH MY OWN TWO GRASP PODS ON PAIN OF CULLING, BECAUSE IT’S SAPPY AS FUCK, BUT CONSIDERING THE LAST ALMOST TWO WEEKS, I’M WILLING TO MAKE AN EXCEPTION.

CG: I’M GLAD WE’RE TALKING AGAIN. I MISSED YOU.

CG: MORE THAN I WOULD EVER ADMIT.

TC: ...i MiSsEd YoU tOo, KaRbRo

TC: :o)

* * *

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] is typing... --

~~[Unsent] TC: hEy ErIdAn, SoRrY aBoUt WhAt HaPpEnEd A fEw DaYs AgO. i~~

~~[Unsent] TC: crap. this should not be this goddamn hard~~

* * *

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] started trolling rusticDynamics [RD] at 20:12 --

TC: hEy, P-sIb. SoRrY bOuT lAsT tImE wE mEt. I kNoW iT mUsTa BeEn KiNdA aWkWaRd FoR yOu :o/

RD: Nah, kid. You’Re good.

RD: Maybe i+ was, bu+ hey, I can do a+ leas+ +ha+ much foR a fRiend.

TC: tHaNkS

TC: iT wAs MoThErFuCkIn StReSsFuL aS hElL, bUt I tHiNk I nEeDeD tHaT

RD: No pRoblem.

RD: +hough, speaking of which - you... do Recall wha+ I +old you abou+ sopoR injec+ion side effec+s a few nigh+s af+eR we me+, Righ+?

TC: oH

TC: yEaH

RD: I know i+’s kinda +oo la+e +o waRn you off the s+uff, bu+ +ry +o ge+ youRself off of i+ li++le by li++le, okay?

RD: And do NO+ jus+ go s+one-cold sobeR, especially if you’ve been having a lo+ of i+. +ha+ neveR woRks and almos+ always leads +o bad shi+ happening as a Resul+.

TC: oKaY, i WoNt

RD: Jus+... +ake caRe of youRself, fuck.

RD: I’m Really no+ anyone +o +ell you wha+ +o do, bu+ +his could ge+ you killed if you’Re no+ caReful.

RD: And I’ve go++en +oo a++ached foR you +o go and die jus+ ye+, you li++le shi+.

TC: hAhAhAh OkAy ThEn :o)

TC: iLl Be CaReFuL

RD: Good.

TC: tHaNkS, p-SiB

RD: Any+ime foR my favoRi+e highblood gRub.

RD: ...CRap. I sound like an old lusus. Shi+.

TC: hAhA yOuRe PrAcTiCaLlY aNcIeNt

RD: You ass! I’m a+ a peRfec+ly you+hful age of six sweeps, +hank you veRy much!

TC: wHaTeVeR yOu SaY... bOoMer

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] ceased trolling rusticDynamics [RD] at 20:33 --

RD: Oh ya LI++LE- KID!!! GE+ BACK HERE!!!

* * *

They’re floating, belly-up in the sea. It’s quiet. Eerily so, but they’re not thinking about it too much, just staring up at the dark night sky. The not-quite troll is pretty far out from shore, but a rope around their waist tethering them to the boat they’d used to row out here takes care of that problem well enough.

It takes a bit of effort to stay afloat - shifting their weight every so often, so it’s evenly dispersed enough that they don’t tip over to one side or the other - but the starfish pose serves them well enough for this purpose, so far. That is, stargazing absently until the sun starts to come up.

Gamzee tries not to think about anything overly important. Just keeping an absentminded headspace, and a quick shove back into intently examining the star-lit sky and pink and green moons if their thoughts get a little too introspectively-centered.

They suppose it’s a small miracle that nothing’s happened to them yet. There haven’t even been any waves. They aren’t paying much attention to their surroundings, and in territory most trolls below violet wouldn’t dare venture without a shipful of crewmembers and fighters (though, who _isn’t_ a fighter on Alternia?), drifting this far from land with nothing but a fucking _rowboat_ is probably a pretty damn dumb move.

( _Keep away from the ocean,_ Goatdad had told them. _Why?_ they had asked. _It’s dangerous,_ and nothing more.

Well, it’s not like he’s here to stop them right now.)

That’s okay. Everything seems fine, so far. Nothing’s happened, and they’re content to stay in their little bubble of peace and perceived safety until something does.

_Ding._

A Trollian notification sounds off from their sylladex, again. They don’t answer it, though, because although their palmhusk may be many things, it is certainly _not_ waterproof.

Staring at the stars gets boring. A warm little sigh, and Gamzee takes a deep breath in before turning to submerge their front into the cool, remarkably calm waters. Their eyes are squeezed shut on instinct. After a second’s hesitation, they peel their eyelids open.

Deep, dark black, tinged with blue. Deceptively calm; as expected of the ocean deep. They let a tiny bit of carbon dioxide (uh. Fuck. Do trolls even breathe out CO2? Do they breathe in _oxygen?_ ) - or, whatever they’re breathing on this planet - escape from their nose, and watch as the bubbles move up a mere few inches to the water’s surface.

_Ding. Ding._

Gamzee tries to hold their breath as long as they can, while lazily taking in the mysterious dark of the entirely new, unknown world below them. They make a game out of it; how long can they hold their breath?

_Ding._

The answer comes out to three minutes, on the dot. They could probably go for longer - the dull throb of their chest and light-headed feeling of a definite lack of (oxygen??? Seriously, they need to find out what they’re breathing, that’s going to _bother_ them) unused air fades into a dull background sensation by the time they hit the hundred-seconds mark, but three minutes is a nice number and they’d rather not pass out defenseless in the middle of the ocean, Alternian or no. They’re not _that_ idiotic.

_Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding._

(Who the hell is trolling them so much? Maybe they should check their notifs after this.)

After taking a moment to catch their breath, treading water to exercise their still stick-like limbs - they need a growth spurt, and possibly better eating habits, they thought canon Gamzee was supposed to be _tall_ \- they go under again, closing their eyes and loosening their body so they can just float, relaxed and limp. Maybe they can hit four minutes this time?

Unfortunately, they are rudely interrupted between one hundred and sixty-three and one hundred and sixty-five seconds. With a warm body and a yell crashing into them from below at high speeds, knocking the stale air completely out of their lungs, leaving them spluttering and coughing out water they’d accidentally inhaled , burning their nasal cavities and throat with salt- _fuck,_ they think they swallowed some, _eeyech-_ something’s grabbing them, and they wriggle in their captor’s grip to get out while the arms around them are still positioned in an awkward embrace- wait.

“-ease don’ be dead please- _oh thank god you’re alivve,_ ” says a breathy, desperate voice, which they just noticed. It’s right next to their ear, clicking erratically with rapid, heavy breaths chilling the wet skin of their neck. The person clutches them tightly as he keeps speaking, lukewarm arms shifting into a more secure hold and pressing them uncomfortably into his similarly tepid-temperature form. “Fuck. _Fuck,_ you- you _FUCKIN’ IDIOT-_ ” They wince at that, accidentally jabbing their bony chin into his thick-clothed shoulder at the same time as a pair of claws digging into their arms as he squeezes them tighter into what is undeniably a bear hug - _ow,_ what the hell, they didn’t know trolls could trill _that high-_ “WWHAT THE _HELL_ WWERE YA THINKIN’ YOU ASSHOLE?!”

Following a valiant but mostly fruitless effort to spit their unruly, _wet_ hair out of their mouth, they power through the intense confusion to donk the side of their head into their _idiot friend’s_ with what little leverage they can muster. “What the _fuck,_ Eridan,” Gamzee shouts loudly into his ear, because it’s impossible to mistake that accent and the fuck-off huge cape collar for anyone else’s, and they would like to _not have a screaming troll right next to their sensitive ears thank you very much._

“You _asshole,_ ” he repeats fiercely, though thankfully at a lower volume. The seadweller doesn’t relinquish his hold on them as he starts to swim forward - or, in Gamzee’s case, backward. “I can’t _believve you._ I come to your hivve to make sure you havven’t killed yourself somehoww in the span a twwo nights, find it _empty_ only ta fuckin’ realize that nobody’s heard from you in _six hours_ -”

“I was _fine!_ As you can clearly motherfuckin’ see!” they argue, and Eridan tosses them roughly into what turns out to be their little rowboat. It rocks precariously with the sudden addition of their weight and momentum; they give a little “ _oof_ ” as the air is knocked out of them for the second time in as many minutes, their fingers scrabbling for hold on the wooden plank-benches in the boat.

“‘ _Fine_ ’ my- goddamn _ass!_ ” he grunts, the boat swaying again as the boy heaves himself and his multiple layers of water-laden clothing on board. They scramble onto the closest bench to get out of the way, gripping it and the edge of the little vessel tight for balance while trying not to trip on the rope still tied to their waist.

“I _was!_ ” they snap at him. The small boat steadies as he plops his sopping wet fish butt down on the bench opposite of the one Gamzee hurriedly sits up on. “You saw me, I was _fine-_ ”

“You wwere _not,_ ” Eridan growls, a fast, menacing _click-click-click-click_ catching them off guard. “You ‘aint a seadwweller, y’coulda _drowwned_ you wwitless, _idiotic, PANLESS FUCKIN’ DUMBFUCK EXCUSE FOR A LANDDWWELLER-_ ”

“OH MY _GODS,_ SEADWELLERS AREN’T THE ONLY ONES WHO CAN FUCKING _SWIM,_ ” they screech back at him, throwing their arms about with exaggerated emphasis, and surprisingly, he actually stops mid-scream. And stares at Gamzee, wide-eyed, like they’ve suddenly revealed a shocking side to themself he’s never seen before. _Honestly._

(He looks absolutely _ridiculous_ with that look on his face, in all that sopping wet, heavy fabric, and they remind themself not to laugh.)

“Wwhat,” he croaks out, the word ending in a strangled little chirp, and they almost roll their eyes, because _seriously?_ Is he _that_ dense?

“Seadwellers,” they repeat, exasperated, “ _are not_ the only ones who can motherfucking _swim._ I live all surrounded by the _ocean_ on one side, y’think I wouldn’t bother learnin’ how to _swim?_ ”

“... _No?_ ” he replies, his taken-aback tone a weird mix of astonished and almost scandalized. “You can fuckin’ _swwim?_ ”

“ _Yes?_ I just _said that,_ didn’t I?”

“Ya say that like it’s not unbelievvably fuckin’ wweird for anyone not a seadwweller to learn howw ta _swwim,_ ” Eridan says dryly.

“Like I _motherfuckin’ said,_ ” Gamzee huffs, “I live by the _ocean._ It’s right outside my goddamn hive. Why _wouldn’t_ a motherfucker learn how to swim with all that ocean out there?”

The violet troll scoffs, ruffling a hand through his hair to shake out the excess water- _wait,_ what the hell, how is it almost dry already? His clothes are only damp now, too. Mother _fucker, Gamzee’s_ ass is freezing out here. “It’s damn unconvventional, is wwhy,” Eridan grumbles, an annoyed little _click-click_ making itself known. Cute. “Fuckin’ unconscionable. Most landdwwellers are smart enough to _stay awway_ from wwhat’s blatantly seadwweller territory, but I shoulda fuckin’ guessed you wwouldn’t havve the pancells to comprehend that.”

( _Keep away from the ocean._ )

Well. Point.

“Oh. That.”

He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, _that._ ”

  
They huff out a little laugh, pushing their obnoxiously curly - and _still_ in their mouth a little bit, blegh - hair out of their face. (Which is, by the way, _infinitely_ harder to detangle than long hair, _and_ harder to tame than straight, short hair, but they haven’t given up quite yet.) “Yeah, okay. Fair.”

The other troll stays quiet as they undo the rope tied to their waist, grumbling softly at the length of it tangled around their legs. It’s cold, and the light ocean breezes are _freezing_ with their still-soaked t-shirt and shorts. Eventually, as they’re rolling up the rope by looping it around the length of their forearm, the boy asks, “Wwhy wwere you out here?”

They look up, blinking in surprise. “...‘Cuz I felt like it?”

Eridan gives them a long, unimpressed stare. “...You rowwed all the wway out here. Into the _dangerous ocean wwaters_ \- ta anyone wwho doesn’t havve fins an’ gills, anywway, wwhich anyone wwith _sense_ wwould knoww vvery fuckin’ wwell - just to float around like a limp troll noodle, practically _beggin’_ to be culled by some random vvioletblood or eaten by someone’s lusii. Because you _felt like it._ ”

“Well, when ya put it _that_ way-”

“You’re a moron.”

“Fish-face.”

“That is the _wworst_ comeback I havve evver had the disgrace of hearing.”

Gamzee grins wide in lieu of an answer, and he snorts at them.

They start rowing back to their hive after tossing the coil of rope into a corner, and silence falls upon the pair again. The ocean sounds are soothing and the splash of their oars rhythmic, all of it fading into a calm background noise. Even so, the fact that Eridan is _here_ for the first time since the... _previous incident,_ which was only a couple of days ago, starts to sink in. They concentrate on steering, and the repetitive, circular motions of moving the oars, trying to ignore the big elephant in the rowboat.

This is fine. They were going to have to talk to him sooner or later. At least they won’t have to worry about how to troll him, now.

They glance at Eridan, whose eyes quickly dart away from them, pretending to have been staring at the ocean behind them the whole time. Gamzee takes a silent, steadying breath, and looks forward to their hive, growing visible at the shore.

It’ll be fine. They have to believe that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the reason why eridan was so freaked is bc most landdwelling trolls,,,, cant swim. they dont really have much reason to - actually, theyd probably actively AVOID swimming, since the ocean is obviously occupied by violetbloods, who would very likely be Not So Stoked that the landdwelling trolls are "invading" their area/territory. ESPECIALLY given the whole "landdwellers vs seadwellers" mentality theyve got going there.
> 
> so heres eridan, pacing on the sea floor and trying not to think about gamzee being Not In Their Hive with no explanation, trolling them incessantly; and then he spots said missing friend floating limply at the surface of the ocean, relatively far from shore, not unlike a dead fish. add in the fact that most landdwellers cant swim to save their damn lives........ yeah. he panicked just a LITTLE bit.


	15. of breadsticks and meddling strangers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY SO LIKE IMPORTANT SHIT, PLEASE READ THIS NOTE
> 
> disclaimer!!! self-insert gamzee is actually agender! i noticed some of u may have thought theyre male, the same gender as canon gamzee, which tbh. understandable. bc i WAS a little bit vague about the subject of their gender - ofc i was always using they/them pronouns from gamzees own pov, but as u probably noticed, all of their friends think theyre firmly a he/him sorta guy!
> 
> this is because. uh. they literally introduced themself as a dude. because canon gamzee is a dude and as such,,, yep. you get the idea.
> 
> i was indeed planning on addressing gamzee’s gender at some point in the story - preferably before the Game starts - and actually this *is* mentioned in this chapter, due to my brain, while writing a random plot bunny that SUPPOSEDLY would have gone more later on in the story, deciding "ah yes, this is the perfect time to formally introduce gender shenanigans to the story", so... yeah, lmao.
> 
> my gamzee is agender, strictly they/them pronouns! (though other pronouns typically dont really _bother_ them, it just feels kinda weird.) theyre just very firmly in the closet lmao

Eridan has stolen their kitchen stool. Gamzee _would_ be offended, but it’s funner sitting on the counter, anyways.

The dude must have been _hungry;_ he’s attacking an entire paper package, minus one, of their ‘leftover’ fridge-cold breadsticks (read: the breadsticks they couldn’t be bothered to eat after finishing just one with their pasta a week ago) all on his own. Well, _leavened grubsticks,_ but that’s ridiculous and they say it’s a stupid name, so bread will always be bread in their heart.

They’re pretty sure that was the last of their... well, their _anything,_ really, aside from the half-eaten popsicle in their hands, the half-full bottle of (ketchup) tomato grubsauce sitting sadly on the fridge door, and the grapes. The fruit of ‘ _spherical fruit strings_ ’. They are not willing to get into Alternia’s incredibly lax naming conventions of different types of fruit at the moment.

Oh yeah, and the ice cream pint in their freezer, approximately one-third full, and _maybe_ an also frozen plastic container of microwavable dinner. Gamzee is _really_ overdue for a grocery shopping trip.

(Once upon a time, five in the morning snacks after staying up all night would have felt _surreal_ as shit - despite their tendency to stay up late, as a human they’d never really left their room to snoop upstairs for anything, because their dad a) slept on the bed-sized couch on the other side of the room, and b) could be a light sleeper sometimes. Plus, the stairs creaked.

But now, it’s snacks in the daytime that feel weird. It’s going down their hive’s numerous flights of stairs that feels strange sometimes, instead of up less than twenty steps for a drink or a snack in the kitchen. It’s never having to keep quiet because they’re the only one in the entire house, unless Goatdad is checking in; it’s the distant, faded fatigue of staying up _just_ too late, when the dampened light peeking out from their shuttered windows tells what’s left of their human instinct that they should be alert and wide awake.)

The smaller troll (because god _damn_ it when is their growth spurt coming?!) finishes their iced treat - the last popsicle in the freezer - slowly as they can, trying to elongate its pitiful lifespan half for an excuse not to speak yet (and half because they have always been of the opinion that dessert is to be _savored,_ you barbarians, not wolfed down so fast that you can barely enjoy the taste of it). They’re chewing absentmindedly on their now bland and quickly splintering popsicle stick when Eridan finally speaks up, still munching on a breadstick.

“So... wwhat’vve you been up to?”

It’s obvious he’s trying to be casual about it, but there’s _something_ \- which they don’t currently have the brain capacity to name - in his tone that tells him it kind of really isn’t.

Just about the only emotion they can conjure is a solid ‘ _mood_ ’, so they decide to ignore it and just answer the question. “Nothin’ much.” Gamzee removes the cheap wood stick from their teeth, fidgeting with it a bit between their fingers. “Thinking about going grocery shopping. Sleeping. That kinda shit.”

Eridan snorts a little, then coughs as he tries not to choke on the food in his throat. _RIP._ “Your thermal hull is honestly fuckin’ pathetic,” he manages to cough out, after thumping a fist into his chest a few times to actually swallow his food properly. “Wwhen wwas the las’ time ya wwent?”

A slight tilt of their head as they think, trying to remember how many weeks ago their last grocery run was. “...Just under two perigees?” Gamzee offers tentatively.

“ _Twwo perigees._ ”

They shrug. “Yeah. I don’t eat a lot, ‘cept when I do.”

The boy tears a chunk out of his sixth seasoned stick of bread. “No wwun’r yer suh sh’rt,” he says, smirking at them, and they narrow their eyes at him in a glare their heart isn’t really into. He’s probably right; they can recognize their faults. _And,_ contrary to popular opinion, they _have_ in fact accepted and embraced the virtues of shortness; they’re just feeling a little miffed that the promised tallness from being Gamzee hasn’t been delivered to them yet.

“Says you, Shortstacks McGuppyface,” they reply, almost absentmindedly, gesturing vaguely with the splintered popsicle stick held loosely in their hands. They don’t really try as much as they should to make the impromptu nickname sound like the retort it’s supposed to be. Now that they’re home and sitting stationary in the comfort of their kitchen, the fatigue - both physical and emotional in nature - is starting to hit them, creeping into their bones and making most movement seem like a chore. It’s mainly the undercurrent of nervousness that’s keeping them awake.

There’s a pause, which is uncharacteristic of their friend - usually, Eridan would at _least_ criticize that weak excuse for an insult, or say one right back, petty as can be; but he doesn’t. He just looks at them, and they can’t quite decipher his thoughts from his face, though the boy’s eyes are narrowed slightly and his fins twitch a little, once.

He swallows. There’s still half a breadstick in his hand, but he doesn’t take another bite. “...You okay?” he asks instead, slowly, as if half-hesitant but half-careful with concern still, and it’s a mental gut-punch for them. A very _confusing_ mental gut-punch. Because... what. He’s asking if _they’re okay?_ Why?? Does it seem like there’s something wrong? What are they projecting that gives them ‘not okay’ vibes???

“Yeah? Why?” they say, bemused, their fingers stilling in fidgeting with the popsicle stick.

Eridan sighs, and with a grumbled little “do I _really_ gotta do everythin’ here,” he says, “Look, it’s obvious you ain’t exactly perfectly fine right noww. Is this-” He hesitates. They wait. They’re good at being patient. “Is this ‘bout the other day?”

“Oh, no,” they say flatly, and because they have no filter, apparently, even as they regret the words a split nanosecond before they exit their mouth. “This is definitely not about the huge motherfuckin’ bitchfight we had just two nights ago since which we have not spoken. Definitely not.”

“Don’t be a fuckin’ bitch about it,” he retaliates bitingly. “I wwas makin’ sure I wwasn’t _misunderstandin’_ the situation. Y’knoww, like a smart, reasonable fuckin’ troll bein’.”

They have no response for that, so they grit their sharp, sharp teeth and peel back their lower lip slightly in a scowl to flash their carnivorous dentition at him in annoyance. He bares his teeth back at them for a few seconds, lips splitting in an equally annoyed snarl and the telltale _click-click-click_ of a quick little growl.

They glower at each other for a good, tension-building moment, a silence falling upon them. The two don’t speak for a while, neither willing to lose the now unspoken competition by breaking the tense air with voice.

_Ding!_

Dammit.

Gamzee shoots Eridan a _you haven’t won this, you assbutt_ look at that smug little smirk on his face, but they both know that he’s not letting go of the victory. The purpleblooded troll gives a sharp huff as they pull their palmhusk out of their sylladex, checking their Trollian to see who’d messaged them.

...It’s not a handle they recognize.

Their brows furrow slightly, but they open the conversation, their curiosity getting the better of them (as always).

\-- levinTicker [LT] started bugging terminallyCascading [TC] at 05:36 --

LT: dude

LT: u should tell ur friends ur agender just sayin

A sudden jolt of anxiety-edged shock nearly has them balking visibly at the messages, because- what?

_What?_

Who the _fuck_ is this, and _why_ did they have to bring this up when Eridan is sitting _literally three feet away from them?_

TC: uH. wHaT aRe YoU tAlKiNg AbOuT.

TC: wHo ThE mOtHeRfUcK aRe YoU?

LT: well, now thats a secret! :)

Gamzee glances up at their seadweller friend. He’s looking at them, and tilts his head towards the palmhusk in query.

After probably a second too long of thought, they just shrug, and cautiously affix their attention back to the trolling log.

Pretend he’s not here. _Pretend they have nothing to hide._

TC: aNd... I sHoUlD tRuSt YoU, bEcAuSe...?

LT: because......... i know future you and future you says ur being a fuckin idiot about this

TC: hAhAhAhAhAhAhAhAhAhAhAhAhA :o)

TC: nO

TC: gOoDbYe

LT: wait what

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] blocked levinTicker [LT] \--

LT: yeah, well

LT: sorry thats not gonna work haha

“Mother _fucker,_ ” they mutter irritatedly, and then proceed to aggressively type out a long chain of finishing crumbs with their thumb.

TC: ........................

TC: >:o(

LT: *shrug*

TC: wHaT dO yOu WaNt, MoThErFuCkEr?

LT: i want u to get out of your damn closet and tell your friends youre agender!!!

God _damn_ it why are they even humoring this person anyways? This person, who has _no fucking reason_ to know that they are not, in fact, of the male gender, much less the _specific_ **_human_ ** _term_ they use to describe their gender?

TC: aNd... AsSuMiNg ThAt I *aM* wHaTeVeR tHe FuCk ThAt Is, WhY tHe MoThErFuCkIn HeLl WoUlD i LiStEn To YoU?

LT: because youre destroying yourself

LT: you are and you know it

LT: trust me, id know

TC: i ThInK nOt

TC: pLeAsE lEaVe Me ThE hElL aLoNe

TC: gOoD. bYe.

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] unblocked levinTicker [LT] \--

LT: whatre you doing?

\-- terminallyCascading [TC] blocked levinTicker [LT] \--

LT: oh

LT: ...yknow what, fine.

LT: i’ll just try again some other day, then.

\-- levinTicker [LT] ceased bugging terminallyCascading [TC] at 05:49 --

They let out a little sigh of breath they hadn’t known they were holding, and after checking for new notifications - there are none - they captchalogue their palmhusk again. Nothing falls out of their sylladex cards in return, thank the gods.

“Wwho wwas that?”

They jerk a little at the somehow unexpected sound of their friend’s voice. He’s looking at them, a black eyebrow raised (yeah, _duh,_ what the fuck else color would his eyebrows be, purple? _Goddammit_ Gamzee get a fucking grip), waiting for an answer.

They would usually put a nice swear word here, for effect, but it just... doesn’t fit the mood. They’re too tired for that. The only word that could possibly describe their emotional state right now is a nice, long _hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh._ Or maybe an _uuuuuuuuuuuuggghhh._

They push their face down tiredly into the palm of their right hand. Eridan taps his foot against one of the tall stool’s foot bars in their peripheral vision, and they close their eyes, dragging their hand up past their forehead and through their hair. The motion is vaguely soothing, in a tiny, stress-relieving sort of way. They sigh heavily.

Gamzee looks up at their friend again. “I don’t motherfuckin’ know,” they say. It’s the truth. “Some rando asshole giving me unwanted life advice.”

Thankfully, he buys it. “I get the feelin’,” Eridan ways sympathetically, and they snort. “Hey! I try ta be nice for once, an’ _this_ is the thanks I get?”

“Dumbass,” they say fondly - a little _too_ fondly, fuck, back up on the feels train. “I gave you my breadsticks, you heathen, isn’t that payment enough?” they lament, touching a hand to their chest in mock-offense.

The boy makes a loud ‘hmph!’ noise, and they snicker a little at his dramatics. Eridan’s really grown on them, hasn’t he?

Their mind wanders back to the conversation they’d just had with the mysterious “levinTicker”, and the smile fades from their lips. It’s a nice thought - that maybe they _can_ tell someone just a little bit about who they are, who they’ve always been - but... it’s not possible.

It’s also _fucking terrifying._ They’ve fantasized countless times of coming out to their family and/or friends, in both lives - but the thought of _actually doing it_ is anxiety-inducing at best. Gamzee likes it in their closet, thank you very fucking much. It’s nice and cozy and safe in here, where no one can get them and no one will know, and everyone and everything will be fine!

As long as they can keep their little secrets under wraps, gender and all, everything _will be fine._

They watch Eridan scarf down the last of the breadsticks, crumpling up the paper package and tossing it over his shoulder in the vague direction of the trash can. Surprisingly, it hits the mark, tumbling into the bin with no issue. They give a low whistle, eyebrows flicking up for a few seconds, and he smirks back at them.

“Wwelp. I’d better get back to my hivve,” he then says, hopping off of the tall kitchen stool. “Sunup’s soon. Can’t leavve Skyhorsedad wwonderin’ wwhere the hell I am so late.”

“Ah,” Gamzee says quietly, and hops off the kitchen counter to see him out. They toss their trash into the receptacle as they pass it. The two troll children descend a long flight of stairs to the ground floor, and too fast yet not quick enough, they’re at the door, awkwardly exchanging their goodbyes for the morning.

Just as he reaches out to open the door, though, a tiny burst of franticness finally gives them the shoddily pulled-together courage to speak up and ask him something that’s been weighing on their mind the whole time. “Hey- Eridan?”

He pauses, then turns a little, looking over his shoulder to see them. “Wwhat?”

They hesitate for a bare second, as they are wont to do before saying most things that might incite conflict of any sort. “We’re... I-” The child breathes out a quiet, controlled sigh at their own incompetence at vocalizing anything of importance. “Are we...” ‘Still friends’ doesn’t seem like a reasonable question, since he hasn’t expressed any dislike or avoidance of them. “Are we cool?”

They then immediately proceed to internally cringe at their terrible phrasing under duress, quickly sliding a blank expression onto their face so as to not show it. What the hell, Gamzee. That’s so fucking lame; ‘ _are we cool_ ’??? _Seriously?_

Eridan examines them for a few long seconds, presumably thinking over their question.

A little snort escapes the boy, and grin creeping into his expression, and it devolves into a small fit of cackles as he bends over, an arm half-curled over his midsection and the other hand still hanging off the doorknob as he laughs.

They blink bemusedly. Uh. Is that... a good sign? Or... no?

“Ya idiot,” he says finally as the laughter dies out, still grinning a little with mirth as he straightens up again and looks them in the eye. “ _God,_ you’re dense. ‘Course wwe’re cool. Wwhat, ya thought I came into your hivve an’ ate all your leavvened grubsticks ‘cause I _didn’t_ still wwant ya around?”

That gets a tiny puff of laughter from them, ticking their mouth into a matching smile, however minute. “I dunno, maybe.”

The seadweller sniffs at them affrontedly. “Wwell, you’d be _wwrong._ I havve _manners,_ unlike some trolls.”

“My lusus is a goat, what didja expect?” they say jokingly.

“True,” he concedes, and they both snicker again. “I really gotta go noww. I didn’t tell Skyhorsedad I’d be out so late, he’s probably already gonna get all fussy ovver it wwhen I get back,” Eridan grouses.

There’s a little twinge in their chest at the indirect reminder of their own lusus’ careful avoidance of them, but it’s quickly wiped away, unimportant and irrelevant. “Yeah, you do that,” they agree, nodding. Their friend opens the door, and they follow him out as far as the water, where the waves meet the sand. “Seeya around?”

He nods, raising a hand in parting. They wave back, and watch as he walks out into the sea, then disappears with a dive beneath the surface.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ah crap. i forgot to name this chapter. lemme get to that real quick lmao-)
> 
> so a bunch of people say that pesterlogs are an absolute *beast* to code up which,,, im not sure why tbh??? like idk to me its just kinda tedious. but maybe thats bc i had a how-to guide to help and didnt have to figure it out all by my lonesome lmao
> 
> after u get the hang of it its pretty easy!!! its just 90% copy-pasting tbh haha,,,,
> 
> so idk i just thought. if ur having trouble figuring out what the fuck are the HTML lines for coding pesterlogs. check out this guide its super helpful!!! it's called "How To Format Pesterlogs: A Satirical Guide" and it helps u learn how to code pesterlog in fun, digestible steps. i enjoyed it :)
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/5391818/chapters/12454586
> 
> [its also got a _very_ nice copy paste cheat sheet in the last chapter :) ]
> 
> forf out!


	16. i know you; i walked with you once, upon a-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day on Prospit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: THIS FIC IS NOT DEAD OR ABANDONED. i am currently actively writing for it!! saw a question abt that in the comments, so i just wanted to make this clear ^-^
> 
> ok so to be (metaphorically) straight with you: i never have, and likely never will, have a consistent posting schedule. that’s why i might, say, post three chapters in as many weeks, but then leave the fic untouched for several months straight. i am not an organized person, inspiration strikes as it wishes, and sometimes im just really not feeling it :P i WILL update tho!! i do have fun writing this, and i rly enjoy reading yalls responses!! so ye uwu
> 
> long story short, since posting the last chapter i have had: writers block, a shiny new obsession w the danny phantom fandom, and a couple months of being grounded from my ao3 and discord akskdnxn. (still kinda grounded [esp for discord :/], but i got impatient since ive had this chapter written since late nov/early dec so shhhh nobody tell lol)
> 
> so yeah thats the tea. that’s all from me for now - here’s a bit of sorta-filler before the next chapter!!

_“ **[̵͎̠̞̖̔́̆̊͊̄̈́̐C̷͈͐̆ͅö̶͓̱̘̹̯̮̪̩́̐͜ŗ̸̤͎͙͔̣̪̏̕̚ͅͅr̸̨̨̩̥͖̭̮̠͊̽͒̃͝u̶͍͙͌̃ͅp̸̨͎̠̦̩͔̑͒̆t̶̛͈̙̎̄͑̋͘͘͘e̷̢̳̤̱̘̩̣͋̌̃̈̋̂̽̂ͅd̵̩̺̞͍̪̮͓̎̾͂͗͒̂ ̴̢̪̦͍̞̻̠̭̱̆̈́̈́̏̄͊̀ď̵̡͎͎͓̄͘a̶͚̓ț̴̬̫̝͕̀̊̾̇͛̽a̵̱͂͋͛̓̍͒͠͠]̴͔̠͇̌͆̄̿̇̌͑**. Wake up.” _

_Their fingers twitch, but nothing more. Logic says they should wake up, but... mmmphhhg._

_“Wake uuuuuup.”_

_“Mmmmmhh.” More sleep. Bed comfy._

_“ **[̵͎̠̞̖̔́̆̊͊̄̈́̐C̷͈͐̆ͅö̶͓̱̘̹̯̮̪̩́̐͜ŗ̸̤͎͙͔̣̪̏̕̚ͅͅr̸̨̨̩̥͖̭̮̠͊̽͒̃͝u̶͍͙͌̃ͅp̸̨͎̠̦̩͔̑͒̆t̶̛͈̙̎̄͑̋͘͘͘e̷̢̳̤̱̘̩̣͋̌̃̈̋̂̽̂ͅd̵̩̺̞͍̪̮͓̎̾͂͗͒̂ ̴̢̪̦͍̞̻̠̭̱̆̈́̈́̏̄͊̀ď̵̡͎͎͓̄͘a̶͚̓ț̴̬̫̝͕̀̊̾̇͛̽a̵̱͂͋͛̓̍͒͠͠]̴͔̠͇̌͆̄̿̇̌͑**! WAKE! UP!” _

_“‘M uuup,” they complain, slowly coaxing the rest of their body into moving. They stretch languidly, still under the blankets. There’s a sigh._

_“_ **_Finally,_ ** _” says a disgruntled voice. “Do you know how many alarms I had to turn off?”_

_Ah, yes. The age-old complaint. At last, they sit up. “Mmmhmm?”_

_“They’re waking ME up! If you’re not even going to wake up, then DON’T SET SO MANY ALARMS!”_

_“Nah.”_

_She inhales audibly, and sighs even louder. They huff out a sleepy laugh._

_“Denizens today, right?” they say, lazily kicking off their blankets and slipping out of bed._

_“Yeah.” The two head towards the kitchen. They plop into a seat and mumble a thanks as she passes them a coffee._

_“…D’you think we’re gonna get out of this?” they ask, staring into their still-steaming beverage._

_She shrugs, taking a generous swig of her own coffee. “I don’t know. You said the denizens probably don’t care either way, right?”_

_“Mm. Probably, yeah.” They blow onto the liquid, watching the lighter-colored parts swirl and streak through pleasantly earthy brown. “And the Choice. I guess... it really just depends on what they’re willing to do. For us. We’re... not even viable. We were doomed to begin with.”_

_She hums. “What was the Choice, again?”_

_“One sec.” They poke their tongue at the coffee, testing the temperature, then take a careful sip. “It’s basically just... a choice, that they give you.”_

_“Very informative.”_

_“Shut up,” they grumble, nursing their drink. “It almost isn’t a choice, though. It’s fashioned so that the decision is a no-brainer, and you could hardly imagine taking the other option.”_

_“So, basically: they tell you to do something, and you do it,” she summarizes._

_“I mean. Yeah, pretty much.”_

_“Great.” She drains the rest of her coffee, then sets the empty mug on the counter. “So we don’t_ **_really_ ** _have a choice, then.”_

_“Nope, probably not.”_

_She heaves a sigh. “_ **_Great._ ** _Hopefully this won’t be too bad.”_

_They snort. “How can it get worse? We’re the only people left in the universe, **[̴̡̡͈͈̻̞̜͚̫̎͂C̴̘̹̟̥͙̮̬̃̎͘͠͠õ̴̢̏͝r̸̡͈̫̝̭̹̥̱̓̒͊r̴̰͐ų̸̼͍͇̼̪̍̎̅̿̋̇̈́p̷̤̯͉̰̿̍̉̈́̕̕͝t̷̩̀̅̐̉̽̏͌̕e̵̙̘̖̟̜̱͙͇̼̯͋̌̇͠ḏ̴̛̗̚ ̶̢̿̄d̵̼̂ą̵͉̫͔͔̑͝ṱ̴̯̗͚̲̩̰͂̓͑̅̿̾̓̇̕͝a̵͇̼̦͌̃̽̎̔͠͠͝]̸̛̰̱̥̣̳͓̐̑͊̈́̍̀͠͠**.” _

_“Geez, stop being so pessimistic, that’s_ **_my_ ** _thing,” she grouses. “It_ **_could_ ** _be worse. We could die.”_

_“Or spend the rest of eternity in this_ **_godforsaken_ ** _universe,” they counter. “We can’t even die. It’s hard to die Heroically or Justly when there’s only two people left in the goddamn universe.”_

_“I mean, there’s the chess people. Carapacians, whatever. They probably count.”_

_“...I_ **_guess._ ** _” They sigh, then gulp down the last of their coffee._

_“The only way to find out is to go.”_

_“Yeah.” They leave the mug on the counter. They’ll rinse it out when... if they get back. “Let’s go.”_

_“Wanna meet back here? If we’re still alive.”_

_“Hah. Yeah, okay. I sure hope so.”_

* * *

Gamzee wakes.

Lavender swirls, gentle and washed in golden light. Prospit.

They lie there on their bed for a few minutes, blinking away the drowsiness of sleep and recalling their dream.

The fact that they’d dreamt is weird already; that it wasn’t a _nightmare_ of some kind is doubly so.

No, correction: that it wasn’t an _outright_ nightmare of some kind. The quiet, pervading _dread_ they’d felt from it probably counts enough.

They quickly start running through the events of the dream, trying to stop it from slipping through their fingers. As always, it’s a futile effort. By the time they fully awake, the only thing they can remember is the underlying fear, and the frustrating sense of knowing they’d forgotten something _important._ Again.

Gamzee mutters a little curse at the loss, but sets it aside. Unbalanced as the disjointed memories leave them, they’re no stranger to such ever-elusive dreams. They never remember what they dream of, anymore, in the cracks of their consciousness between Alternia and Prospit.

Nonetheless, their dreams - or daymares, same difference - are few and far between. To even have one in the first place, they must’ve fallen asleep _somewhere_ outside their recuperacoon... oh.

_Smack._ Hand, meet face.

Gamzee groans, pushing themself up with their other arm. They remember crashing on the couch, after Eridan left. They _knew_ they shouldn’t have done that - but they were just so _tired._

Ugh. They’re going to stink of salt, once they get back to their real body. Should’ve at least showered, before lazing off.

Well. Nothing for it, now.

On that mildly dampened note, they start the day by doing their routine check around the Prospit towers, seeing if anyone’s woken up. Kanaya’s the first pitstop, though her tower is in the middle of the row; there’s always a good chance of her being awake, and they prefer to check hers before and after the other towers so there’s less possibility that they’d just missed her.

She’s sound asleep in her ‘coon when they get there. Must be staying up late doing something on Alternia, then.

They linger for a few minutes, swinging their legs idly from the windowsill where they’re perched. When she still doesn’t wake up, they accept that Kanaya might not be going to sleep back on Alternia any time soon, hop out the window, and fly away. They backtrack to the tower second-to-last on the row, their own being the very last one. Organized in the hemospectrum, because of course.

There’s a certain aesthetic to it, they suppose. It still gets a _bit_ annoying, when literally _everything_ else in society is also determined by the color that runs through your veins.

Vriska’s fast asleep, as per usual. Not that they’d expected much else. They start counting to a hundred and twenty, watching as she slumbers peacefully in her recuperacoon. She has a vertical one - like Kanaya’s, except it doesn’t hang from the ceiling - with a hole in the side that makes her face and a bit of her golden-clothed shoulders visible.

They wonder how someone with such a peaceful expression - so _childlike_ in its innocence - can be responsible for the loss of what undoubtedly is, or will be, thousands of lives. Hundreds and hundreds of _kids,_ lives snuffed out by her own hand; either in the cruel entertainment that characterizes Alternia or for the purpose of _survival._ Because no killing, for her, means no lusus, and a lususless little troll is significantly more likely to be a dead little troll.

She looks so young. She can’t be older than nine, just like Gamzee.

Not that paradox space cares. They will all be only thirteen, at the end of the world. That’s _middle school_ age. So young, and already such a heavy weight will lie upon their shoulders.

At least Gamzee is, in a sense, fifteen. Not much better, but still a _little_ better.

...They don’t feel fifteen, sometimes.

(What is fifteen, anyways, but a number? Fifteen and a half, twenty-four, eight going on nine; the numbers are arbitrary, at this point. Not mature enough for fifteen, far too jaded for nine, and certainly nowhere even _close_ to twenty-four. None describe their mentality accurately enough to matter.)

Eventually, Gamzee snaps out of their pensive trance, realizing that, at some point, they had stopped counting.

After one last, lingering glance at the calm of Vriska’s all-too-young features, they move on to the next tower.

Terezi snores sporadically in her sleep. Gamzee is already used to this, having visited her tower on countless occasions, just as they have the others’.

  
They’re not going to actually try and check, but they’d bet their fingers _and_ toes that if they opened one of her eyes, they’d see the normal marigold sclera and black-and-grey eyes, instead of solid red.

That’s a _really_ weird thought. And sad, considering how she loses her eyes - as well as the fact that it’s how she wakes up, too.

(They’ll have to be careful, when that event happens. They can’t let anyone onto the fact that they already _knew._ )

Though she tends to toss and turn more than the others - a sign of approaching wakefulness, Kanaya has suggested - Terezi is the one they least expect to wake randomly, which is a bit comforting. No sudden surprises, when they come here; not until the Incident, anyways. Mostly, Gamzee just drops by her tower out of habit, and a weird sort of reluctance to stop checking up on any of the trolls, even those they haven’t met. The not-teen feels a weird sort of obligation to make sure they’re all okay. Just... as a friend thing. And for their own peace of mind.

After the customary few minutes - which Terezi, unsurprisingly, continues to snooze away - Gamzee slips out of her colorfully curtained window, leaving her light snores behind to continue on their way.

They peek into Kanaya’s tower again, as they pass by. Still asleep. Fair enough. Maybe she’s working on some kind of project, they muse.

Sollux is sleeping on the blue side of his ‘coon, today. The side he’s on, they’ve discovered (after an embarrassingly long time), tends to change depending on his mood. When he’s noticeably more energetic or chaotic, it’s almost guaranteed that they’ll find him on the red side of his dual ‘coon; likewise, a subdued or even depressive demeanor will find him on the blue side, like now.

Gamzee floats up to the unoccupied red side and settles on the rim of the circular opening, bracing their feet against the rounded juncture where both sides join into one. They sit there for a while, watching Sollux slumber serenely on, untroubled by anything around his dream body. That’s probably not the case with his actual, awake self, but it’s good to know that his dreamself is still alright.

Sometimes, they wonder if his Derse dreamself sleeps so easily. Probably. They kind of wish that they could check, either way. It would be nice to see what the Derse players are like, too.

(Eridan’s a Derse player. But that’s fine, since they see him often enough in real life.)

Their hand swirls absently through the ruby-red sopor, as they sit vigil. It’s delightfully warm to their coolblooded skin, though in the way a jacuzzi or warm bath is rather than a cozy blanket; absolutely amazing for short-term relaxation, but a bit too uncomfortably hot for sleep. Sollux’s sopor is definitely thinner and runnier than Gamzee’s - more like honey or syrup, or liquid slime, rather than a consistency between jelly and jam - but the coloring is admittedly a bit intriguing.

(Wait. Sopor _is_ slime. So _technically,_ ‘liquid slime’ would be a more literal description of the stuff, wouldn’t it?)

They run their fingers through it, tracing abstract shapes through the stuff and watching the lines quickly smooth themselves out; occasionally scooping it up and let it fall back through their fingers, observing the way the light shines through it in a bit of a trancelike fascination.

There’s no temptation to eat it. At all. There is definitely something to be said about that, especially considering the complete absence of _any_ sopor-related objects in their own dreamer room. The recuperacoon is just plain gone, their bed in its place, and the sopor splaysac and sopor-filled throw pillows on their couch are replaced with their appropriate human counterparts.

_Now, we don’t have time to unpack ALL of that,_ they decide, despite the fact that they have virtually all the time in the world to do just that. The subject matter is kind of depressing, so they’d rather not dwell on it.

And isn’t that the whole damn story of their life? They have a bad habit of ignoring their problems - even now, the purpleblood is staunchly not thinking of their current interpersonal issues with Sollux - but that’s basically the only way they’re going to stay sane enough to keep their actions in check, so.

Once they get bored of messing with the red sopor, Gamzee peers into Sollux’s blue side once more - still asleep, and all decked out in dandelion yellow Prospit jammies, which are tinted from golden to green in the sopor - and flies out to the next stop.

Predictably, Tavros is asleep. His vertical recuperacoon _does_ actually fit his horns, though sadly, Gamzee is quite sure the same cannot be said of his Prospit room’s real-life counterpart.

The not-troll has... mixed feelings about Tavros, especially since they haven’t actually met him yet. But from what they can remember, he’s a genuinely good person who really does try his best. Kindhearted, even in an almost kill-or-be-killed world like Alternia, and sincere.

They’re hoping that the integrity of the timeline does _not_ count on them having a red crush on Tavros, though. While he _is_ possibly decent crush material, and has better chances of getting to their heart than, say, Vriska does, they aren’t sure if they _will_ end up having a crush on him. And it feels dirty to even think of trying to fake it.

_Anyways._ Good kid. Definitely doesn’t deserve half the shit he gets in the future. It’s a small comfort, at least, that Prospit will be his solace from the hell of real life and the Game in the time to come.

Finally, they leave Tavros’ tower, and arrive at the last one in the row.

Karkat sleeps in a horizontal recuperacoon; covered, unlike Terezi’s. He frowns and grumbles or mumbles a little in his sleep, sometimes. Which, okay, is a _little_ terrifying, but hopefully that’s just a “Karkat being a grumpy person” thing and not a “Karkat is going to wake up at some point before Bec Noir kills him oh shit oh fuck go back tO SLEEP” sort of thing.

Gamzee assumes their usual position next to his ‘coon, sitting with their back slouched against the side of the purple shell. They close their eyes, and stay there for a little while, just breathing.

After a few minutes of doing... nothing, simply basking in the quiet, they lumber to their feet and check on Karkat one more time.

There’s a little furrow to his brows, but that’s typical of Karkat, half the time. They resist the urge to ruffle the boy’s hair fondly, as they used to do to himself and Sollux a while ago. That was not a great habit to get into; it’s a bit _too_ familiar, especially for pityfriends who haven’t even met in meatspace, and it’s probably not exactly in line with typical Gamzee Makara Behavior™.

Sometimes, they wish they _at least_ could have been reborn (uh, _rehatched?_ No, that implies they were hatched in their previous life, which they most decidedly were _not_ ) as someone who matched their personality more. Or... hm, maybe not quite. Just... someone they could have been freer with themself as, though it’s hard to imagine themself as anyone _but_ Gamzee, after all this time.

Still yet - _if_ they had been lucky, they may have even been reborn as someone who _wasn’t_ going to die.

Sadly, Gamzee thinks they used up all their good fortune in their previous life. A Light player they are most definitely _not._ Where they would often get lucky when they really needed it, back then, their luck is absolutely _rotten_ these days. It’s almost like they’re a fucking anime protagonist. Or an anti-hero.

Anti-hero luck is probably more accurate. The anime protagonist usually doesn’t die in the end, after all; or if they do, they at least get a happy or even bittersweet ending out of it.

Nothing about their death will be bittersweet.

They exit Karkat’s tower, and make one last stop at Kanaya’s.

No dice. Huh. Unusual, but okay.

Gamzee gives a little sigh of disappointment. They’d been hoping Kanaya would be around, today; the conversation would have been nice, as a little wind-down before the commitment they’ve made for themself tomorrow evening.

Namely: to troll the fuck up and _talk to Sollux already._

It will have been three nights since the... Intervention, once they wake up on Alternia, and they _still_ haven’t worked up the guts to contact their last friend. They haven’t even read all his messages from the past two weeks, yet. His response is the one that’s hardest to predict, and... they’re not going to lie. They’re scared.

He _knows things-_ a _lot_ more than he should. That alone is terrifying enough. Worse, they don’t even have an _excuse_ for all those years of deception; of secrets and faked innocuousness and knowing _way more than they should have._

(A small part of them is so fucking _afraid_ it’s already over, that they’ve already gone and messed it up and things have been changed _irreparably_ enough that there’s no going back. They’re already Doomed. No happy ending for _anyone,_ no new world, no life nor fate but the dissipation of their timeline - to drift aimlessly in the dreambubbles of the afterlife and fight in the ghost army against Lord English _and everyone dies in the end-_

It can’t be true. They refuse to accept that. They _refuse._ So long as this timeline is going, they’ll fucking fight it _tooth and nail_ to keep them all on track. It’s not fair for anyone, if they fuck it up before they’ve all even gotten a _chance_ at the Game.)

The troll shakes themself out of the steady downward spiral of thoughts, and flies away from the player towers altogether.

If Kanaya’s not here, then they might as well go searching for the Crypt Beds again. They don’t see why they’d ever need it, but it never hurts to have more information, just in case.

(Just in case... of _what?_ )

Time to brave the labyrinth of Prospit’s moon - again. Hopefully they don’t fall asleep in the middle of the city, again. They pity the poor souls who’d kindly carried their unconscious dreamself from Prospit’s main body all the way back up to their tower, the last time it happened.

* * *

\-- levinTicker [LT] started bugging terminallyCascading [TC] at 12:00 --

LT: okay. so maybe pestering you to uncloset yourself while sleep deprived was not the greatest idea.

LT: sorry. i really should have known better.

LT: still, you ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

LT: wait what the fuck

LT: ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

LT: ........... are you serious?

LT: fuck

LT: test test: ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆

LT: ∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆

LT: shit

LT: you have got to be kidding me

LT: ∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆

LT: ∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆

LT: UGH.

LT: GODDAMMIT. I AM GOING TO MURDER WHOEVER ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆ ∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆

LT: fucking. sorry about that.

LT: i guess theres no point to this, if 80% of my messages are going to be censored.

LT: just- sorry about trying to make you out yourself. really dick move of me.

LT: and... know that ∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆ ∆∆ ∆∆∆∆∆

LT: im rooting for you. good luck.

\-- levinTicker [LT] ceased bugging terminallyCascading [TC] at 12:12 --

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gamzee: age is but a social construct-  
> the kiddos in hiveswap friendsim: [exist on a wildly varying scale of “wholesome honk childe” to “expert social media propagandist”]  
> gamzee: -but only bc im That One Weirdo, everyone else is probably normal enough haha
> 
> ngl half the plot of the next chapter [as ive planned it] basically boils down to “gamzee interacts with normal troll society, everyone else reacts” lmao. the other half is “how the fuck does traveling long-distance on alternia work???” i havent finished watching hiveswap friendsim or pesterquest playthroughs yet, but from what the wiki tells me... if you’re a highblood, it probably works _pretty goddamn well._ gamzee isnt really getting the memo, tho. they are small brain, so they just take the bus/train like all the other plebs lmaoakfjsgfdjdkjks
> 
> btw i literally just remembered that time zones exist for people other than kanaya AND i even have a fuckin list of them for the 12 trolls. im just a dumbass who forgot about it bc its sitting in my personal discord server instead of the actual fuckin cascade document for some reason wkejkwjkjs  
> SO. im editing this fic to factor in time zones :) dw its not major changes, just little bloops/mentions that dont make sense if time zones exist. theyre in that one trolling log at the end of chapter 9, and the convo at the start of chapter 10!
> 
> ill end this note w/a lil fun fact: my new hc is that when vriska (or anyone rly, but usually its just vriska) mind controls a player while asleep, she also inadvertently controls their dreamself bc their consciousness is in a limbo between the two bodies. it sorta weakens the Asleep-ness of their dreamself lol. and if she makes them open their eyes, since it ALSO opens their DREAMSELF’s eyes, she consequently Wakes Up their dreamself!!! sollux DID say that prospit was pretty lively even before the Game, in homestuck canon...  
> (i wonder if there’s just like. Nothing There™ when she tries to mind control an Awake player’s real/main body in their sleep. as in, while they’re on derse/prospit. and shes just like “ ** _????????_** ”)
> 
> why is this relevant, you ask? well... unless I change my mind again, plotwise... :> lets just say that prospit is gonna get a *bit* rowdier, come The Incident.


End file.
